For Everything, There is a Reason
by CorrinaTFF
Summary: One man took his world from him. What was once bright and full of promise became darkened by despair. It seemed as if no one could give him reason enough to continue to exist. Could she?
1. Preface

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

**And so we begin—**

-~~{()}~~-

**_Preface_**

-~~{()}~~-

"Ed, please love, we need to go. I do _not_ want to be late." I was ever so anxious to get to the doctor's office to confirm we were again with child. This would be our fourth pregnancy, and as apprehensive as I was, I felt certain this would be the infant to survive my fruitless womb.

I heard a light chuckle emanate from my wonderful husband as he strode down the hallway toward me. "Yes, my lovely wife. I promise you we won't be even the briefest of seconds tardy." He grasped my chin, rubbing my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before placing a chaste kiss on my lips. "Need we unnecessarily visit Gerandy to confirm what we already know to be true, my love?"

I playfully swatted his arm. "You want this just as much as I. I warn you, Mr. Masen, do not irritate the woman you have impregnated with your heir." I could not help but allow the giggle to escape my lips as I beamed with excitement.

He furrowed his brow as a smirk played on his lips, and he shook his head. "I should never dream of doing so, Mrs. Masen." He opened our apartment door, and we made our exit toward the elevators to enter into the cool New York air below.

This would be our miracle child, the one to grow inside of my womb. Ed and I had yet another discussion last night about the measures we would take to protect our beautiful child. We were quite set on our decided-upon path and would not dare stray for fear of the consequence. We were going to traverse this journey with a wary confidence.

I would be taking a leave of absence from my teaching while pregnant. Ed would employ both a full-time nurse and a housekeeper to tend to myself and our home until I gave birth. We couldn't manage such things without dipping into our trusts, but he insisted there was plenty of opportunity for extra shifts at the hospital. I knew if he really had to, he would ask his parents for help and I would do the same with mine.

We both were born into prominent societal families, but had held no desire to rely on our trusts or our parents. We had wished to make our mark in the world without the use of family money or influence. Ed understood and respected the responsibility to uphold the Masen name; he only wished to not rely upon it. I had felt the same regarding my Cullen birthright; those similar desires were what had drawn us to each other.

We did, however, want to be sure this little one made it through to our world. We were determined to be proactive in my care. Decisions were made for me to remain off my feet as much as possible, either in bed or sitting where I would be most able to put my feet up. I was to complete no housework and when chemicals were in use, I was to wear a surgical mask while on the opposite side of the house or resting outdoors. There would be no exercise or stretching of any sort.

Much like my mother before me, the miscarriages were without much of an explanation. The doctor had claimed an inhospitable womb, yet could not give any better definition of the supposed issue. This was the reason we were seeing our dear friend Gerandy at his practice across town. We had met him last year while attending a charity auction held for the Lenox Hill Pediatrics department, and he had quickly become a very dear friend. He had been running test after test but remained cautiously optimistic about my condition.

We too were cautiously optimistic when I began showing signs of carrying our child just last week, thus making the difficult decision to delay our happy announcement to our friends and family until the first trimester passed. We felt it best, given that we had all endured the pain of loss by miscarriage through the three previous pregnancies. All were lost within that span of time, and we couldn't bear putting them, or us, through yet another loss.

Being the honest woman I was, I had to admit I could no longer stomach the feeling their pitied gazes gave me. It was excruciating to have them desire to comfort me when all I sought to do was live in my woe. Each time, the desire to hide away grew stronger and began to strangle me. Their sorrowful stares only reminded me of how much of a failure I was at being a Cullen woman and a Masen wife. The inability to provide even one heir for the family fortunes was crippling.

When we arrived at Dr. Gerandy's office I couldn't contain the euphoria I felt. I knew I was beaming and did not wish to hide my elation from anyone. Whilst taking my seat, I peered around the room at the other waiting women and instinctively ran my hand over my flat belly.

I inwardly spoke to my child, _"Soon, my beautiful baby, very soon you will be extending my belly out to the world in declaration of your existence. You and I will become well acquainted so that you will recognize me when you emerge."_

I would be sure to speak aloud with my baby every single day to acquaint him or her with my voice. I knew Ed would soon do the same, wanting to feel a bond with our child as soon as he or she made their appearance.

Poor Ed was vehemently trying to be excited for us, but I believe he was more anxious than I. This blessing of a child would be our life, our world, everything. We would let our precious little one know each and every day just how special and significant he or she was in our lives. Our hearts would forever be filled with the love our precious miracle would bring.

Our miracle child would enter this world with all the promise of a very successful and contented life. He or she would have every privilege our families were able to extend. Our lives would revolve around the needs and desires of our angel.

~~{()}~~

After speaking with him at length, we had every confidence in Gerandy and wanted to allow our families the opportunity to be thankful for the wondrous gift being bestowed upon us. Ed and I were ecstatic with the confirmation of our pregnancy, and in our exuberance, we had decided to share the news early. We devised a plan to extend our joy to them in the best way possible.

When we returned to our home, I was anxious to sit and begin writing the first of many communications with our precious treasure. Communication had always been the key to our successful marriage as well as those of our parents. We would be sure our child understood he or she would be included in every manner. Our child would want for nothing and would be well protected in the safety of our arms, in our home and by our family and friends.

I opened my desk drawer and removed the beautiful, crested stationary I had yet to use in our six years of marriage. I smoothed it out over the coarse, brown leather pad of my secretary, tilting the page just so to be sure the script would be perfect and at the appropriate angle. I was taking great care in applying the proper amount of pressure to the paper to be sure the pen did not emboss the page. This page would hold the first of many thoughts I wished my child to know one day.

_November 22, 1988 _

_My precious baby,_

_Your father and I already knew you to be growing inside of my womb as we happily confirmed your existence with Dr. Gerandy today. We couldn't be more thankful that you, our little miracle, are comfortably resting within me as I write this letter to you. Our little treasure, we have waited so long for you._

_Your father and I went out after our appointment and purchased little baby bottles and rattles to place inside gift boxes. This is how we will announce you to your grandparents on Thursday. They will all be thankful for you and the happy news will only add to the joy felt this Thanksgiving. _

_I promise to love, nurture and protect you all of my life. You will feel loved every day, and you will be cherished for the precious gift that you are. You will be protected by us all and will be given a safe environment in which to grow. You will be provided for, having every need and desire filled, the best we are all able._

_We had all but given up on ever meeting you. Now that you are on your way, we will do everything to make certain your arrival is safe and sound. I love you, my precious baby. Meeting you will be the greatest joy I will ever know._

_Your mommy,_

_Lizzie_

I folded the stationary and placed my first letter to our angel inside the beautiful Masen crested envelope. I went into my closet, found an old hatbox, and placed the letter inside. I carried the box into our guest room and placed it on the shelf in the closet. I turned back to look at the haven that would soon be where our child would take respite and dream. I ran my hand over my belly and said a prayer of thanks.

-~~{()}~~-

**Author's Note: **_**Quick thanks to my fic-wife and pre-reader, MPG and my very supportive and wonderful betas Tiffanyanne3ff and Carabeth. I am so glad you all agreed to travel this road with me. **_

_**To my readers: I greatly appreciate every single one of you. You have been great to me and supported me through everything I've written. This is only the setting for the story you will soon follow. Chapter One will post June 20**__**th **__**. Thank you for beginning the journey with us.**_


	2. Chapter 1: Upside Down

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

-~~{()}~~-

_Chapter 1 _

_Upside down_

_-~~{()}~~-_

_ Edward_

_-~~{()}~~-  
_

It had been an excellent evening with my parents. They had taken me to the Broadhurst Theater to see Les Misérables, after which, with a bit of coaxing, my parents had agreed to join me for a late dinner at the Carlyle Restaurant. The restaurant was located inside The Carlyle, my place of residence, and the only home I had known since birth.

The restaurant's maître d', Laurent, was prepared with a red velvet birthday cake. He had been with The Carlyle for the past ten years and knew my parents had requested one every year for my birthday. Some of those years, we would indulge in it at the restaurant after an extravagant dinner, while other times it would be sent to our two-bedroom royal suite.

For my eighteenth birthday, they had requested a six-tier version for the social event expected of a college-bound Masen. I remember I had hid in my room most of the evening, not really knowing anyone there. I had been a bit anti-social in school, and therefore I had few friends. Those few acquaintances had gone to Europe for the summer. That left my family and their aging adult friends in attendance; a majority of them were members of the elite social circle.

After dinner, I made every attempt to convince my parents to stay the evening, expounding on the lateness of the hour.

My mother had placed her palm to my cheek, wrapping her thumb around my chin and giving it a playful shake. "My sweet, beautiful boy. You act as though we live hours from you. It is but a brief drive over the Hudson. What is this sudden need to have your ancient parents staying in your home? Do you, my grown son, need coddling?" she teased.

I raised my brow and made a playful attempt at scolding. "Mother, I am not asking to be coddled; I am merely asking that you stay the night. My home, as you plainly put it, was once your home. It is still and forever shall be considered your home. Please, won't you stay?"

My father stood behind my mother and placed his hands on her shoulders while looking over her right side at me with a quirked brow. "Edward, son, it may just be that your ancient parents," my mother yelped, interrupting my father and thrusting her hips forward as she blushed, "would like to be alone for the evening."

It was then that I noticed my father's right hand was no longer present on my mother's shoulder. I groaned, shaking my head in resignation, and could not help but roll my eyes. "Must you two act like oversexed teenagers? Honestly! Could you please act your age? We are in a public establishment, and you are embarrassing me. People are noticing your antics, and look what you have done. You are making Laurent nauseous."

I heard Laurent chuckle lowly, and then clear his throat in an attempt to conceal it. "A happy birthday to you, young Edward. We shall have the remainder of the cake boxed and sent up to your residence. Enjoy the rest of this fine evening, Mr. and Mrs. Masen." He turned to me with a playful smirk on his lips. "Mr. Masen." He nodded and excused himself as he began his rounds to greet the other guests in the restaurant.

My mother giggled as we walked out of the restaurant toward the golden elevator doors, and then continued our earlier conversation. "'Tis all the more reason for us to leave for our home in Englewood, Edward." She placed her hand over my heart as she spoke. "I love you my treasured miracle."

"As I do you, Mother." I kissed her forehead. "Drive safely home and no dawdling. You know how we New Yorkers feel about you New Jerseyites always causing trouble over the Hudson." I teased pointing out the much noted rivalry between the competitive states. "Please call me when you arrive home."

My father chortled louder than was necessary. "We will phone you upon our arrival, son. You must get some rest. You have a busy summer schedule ahead of you." Dad shook my hand—never wishing to emasculate himself or his son in public—before they boarded the elevator to leave the hotel.

-~~{()}~~-

I stood in the foyer and looked around my apartment, reflecting on my life. Here I was, a twenty-one-year-old bachelor living in a suite which had been owned by my family for over two decades. The various shades of light from the city below danced along the glass windows, playing along the ceiling, creating a spectacle of color. I poured myself a scotch and walked over to take in the view of New York and all its marvelous glory. No matter the time of day, the city always took me by surprise as it seemed to easily move at a steady pace. It was my haven and my play place, and I vowed to never leave it.

My parents had chosen to live a somewhat modest life in their retirement and allowed me to keep my childhood home. They had committed what most New Yorkers would consider a sin against the state and was at minimum punishable by rude gesture. New Yorkers did not openly choose to move to New Jersey, nor did they allow themselves to be forced to move to what most considered hell. My parents were never ones to care for the argument of the boundaries and had moved to Englewood just after my twentieth birthday. They absolved themselves of any wrongdoing by claiming they wanted me to live the life of a true bachelor and college student.

I knew of my mother's secret hope. She prayed it would permit me to rally a "nice girl" and choose to settle down to provide her with grandchildren before she was aged enough to be a great-grandmother.

During our conversations on the matter, I would chide her, stating I was too young to entertain such thoughts. She would often offer a rebuttal, speaking of my failing in my attempts to introduce myself to said girl. She would swiftly follow by adding her observation of me appearing to be exceedingly particular in my selection. I would laugh, reminding her that I believed myself to be exercising cautious discrimination in seeking a Masen wife. She would retort with a final statement. "I am not getting any younger, Edward Anthony."

I smiled at the thought of my mother shooing children along with a cane.

My parents and I would often openly discuss various topics. It was most often entertaining, and I believed it prepared me well for debates in my communications classes. In high school, I had felt one of my teachers to be harsh in her judgment of a paper I had done on Shakespeare's Hamlet and his portrayal of the tragedy that was Ophelia. I was unmoving in my thesis, and once I had explained my vision and countered her views, my B was reluctantly turned to an A. I have held no fear in debating my elders since—including my grandparents.

I had once debated with my grandfather the particulars of what the afforded privilege of wealth and status could bring to a high-class thief versus the common everyday thief, trying to feed his family or pay his bills. My grandfather believed all were treated equally and punished as such. I pointed out the thievery of Bernie Madoff versus the young man in Orlando who had robbed a pawnshop so that he could feed his pregnant wife and their three young children. Madoff got off easy being placed in a mild facility, while this young man was convicted and going to a much harsher prison with murderers for bunkmates for up to ten years. My grandfather had pointed out that Madoff had a prison sentence of 150 years. I still believed he got off easy for all the lives he ruined in the process.

I sometimes felt a hypocrite for the prestige the Cullen and Masen names had afforded me. I led a comfortable life with many a luxury. Unfortunately with those luxuries, came a great burden of upholding the esteem of the name. A person's view of me tended to change quickly upon hearing I was a Masen. I learned long ago, that the mere mention of either family name in mixed company would cause a shift in an individual's demeanor to something resembling voracity.

When I would speak of my life, I was often noted as being a pompous ass. If I chose to remain silent in regard to my private life, then I was perceived to be arrogantly shunning those around me. Precarious balance that it was, I would rather be silent and allow them the freedom to think what they would.

In this age, I refused to speak of my personal life and consequently people referred to me as a snob. They believed me to be hiding my exact worth in an effort to continue to contribute small amounts of money to the fewest charities. Truth be told, there were numerous charities, we just did not feel the necessity to divulge the particulars of our donations. There was nothing to be gained from such proclamations. There was a sense of pride for accomplishing good deeds; they are best done when in secret, without the boastful stance.

The most notable change in my interactions came from women. If I had not been raised to respect the female population, I could easily have exploited some of them for various needs. I was a handsome man and did not need my wealth to help me gain the interest of the plethora of females begging my attention. It was most unfortunate that my name and money brought forth the most insidious of human kind. One young lady in particular sprung to mind. Jane Volturi. She was a family friend with a rapacious appetite for wealth and status. I was relieved to be rid of that girl's social-climbing claws.

My parents had wished that I live the life of a _normal_ college student, but it was not something I was able take pleasure in. I was not into the carousing that most people my age were. As far as the bachelor life went, I had found no interest in any of the women I had dated. I use the term "women" loosely. It was rare for a meeting to progress past the first date. On those rare occasions it would go past date one, I would find myself bored with the lack of intelligible conversation. Honestly, most girls my age didn't have the intellectual prowess I desired.

The way some would drape themselves over me and behave as though they had the bleakest amount of intellect, was demeaning not only to themselves, but to other women. I know I sound like a feminist, but my mother raised me to respect women not make use _of_ them. These college girls were not always worthy of my respect, but they had it nonetheless.

-~~{()}~~-

I was just climbing into bed when my cell phone rang. I did not recognize the number but chose to answer, noting it was a New York area code. The only call I was expecting was from my parents, and I was annoyed with the intrusion due to the lateness of the hour.

My mother had taught me to be more even-tempered. She had taught me many things; answering the phone, no matter what time of day, was one of them. She considered it rude to ignore one's phone call. _'What is the point in having a phone if you don't answer it?' _she would retort.

"At this hour, this had better be important," I rudely growled into the phone.

"May I speak with a Mr. Edward Masen?" I felt my heart jump into my throat as I heard sirens in the background mingling with assorted chatter. I heard the squelch of a radio as someone started to speak over it, but the volume of it had decreased significantly before I could make anything out.

"This is Edward Masen. What is the purpose of this call, please?" I was making every attempt to keep my voice steady, even though my heart was screaming to leap from my chest and flatten itself on my hardwood floor waiting to be trampled upon by any willing being.

"Mr. Masen, this is Officer Davids. Sir, your mother asked that I call you."

I was instantly fretful as to why my mother had not phoned me herself, and what could have happened to my father that would render him incapable of calling. Unable to speak and fearing what came next, I began pulling on the jeans and t-shirt I had laid out for the next day. I was charging through my apartment like a confined animal, having the wherewithal to gather my keys, wallet and sport coat.

"Mr. Masen, your parents have been involved in a car accident. They were hit by another vehicle approximately thirty minutes ago. They're both in transit via ambulance to Lenox Hill Hospital. Do you know where that is, sir?"

My fears were confirmed, and I managed to choke out my affirmation in response to his question. I silently pleaded for my parents' well being. I knew my mother would be overcome with emotion and grief if my father had been hurt. My world would crumble if I lost either of them.

I listened intently, hearing a muffled question to someone near Officer Davids before he spoke again. "I will meet you there and alert the hospital emergency staff of your arrival and relationship."

Without another word, I hit the red button ending the call and was out the door, on my way to the hospital. My mind was swimming with thoughts of what I would need to care for when I arrived at the hospital-a deeper concern for my parents' well-being pounded in my head with every beat of my heart. I had no insight as to what needed to be done in such situations. I did not want to imagine why my mother would not have called me herself without thinking the worst. Understanding why she had an officer call me instead of herself or where my father was at present, was beyond any deliberation at the moment.

An awful realization hit me in the next moment, and I was frantically dialing my uncle's number. He picked up the phone on the fourth ring as I exited the elevator rushing for my car.

"Edward? Hello, my dear nephew! How are you? How was your birthday? It is quite the milestone."

My breathless words began to rush forcefully from my distressed lips. "Uncle! Please? I don't know what I need to do! I have never had to deal with anything like this, and I am worried. You're a doctor. You are best able to advise me of what is going on or what will happen. I must know what I should do!" I knew I sounded panicked and a bit hysterical, but I didn't have a mind to care. I wanted answers, and I needed his kind of help directly.

"Edward! Wait, slow down! What are you talking about?"

I arrived at my vehicle and took a deep breath as I jumped in and slammed the door. I quickly put the vehicle in gear to drive to Lenox Hill. I switched the call to the Volvo's Bluetooth and told him the details the officer had given me regarding the accident. The next words I spoke were regarding the details of what I believed to have happened with my parents. Without taking in much breath, I told him everything I knew and feared as I drove and tugged at my hair at the same time.

"Edward, don't worry, we are on our way," he said in a rushed but commanding voice. "Esme, get on the phone, and get us the first flight out to New York." He seemed to level his voice and spoke a bit calmer. "Edward I will call you as soon as we have our flight information. I need to call the kids and let them know what is happening." The line went dead with his last word, and I was certain he was hastening to get his home in order before leaving.

I heaved a sigh, feeling slight relief at the thought of my uncle coming to New York. He would be here to handle things I wasn't prepared to deal with. He would know how to move forward and was the best doctor to truthfully tell me, in layman's terms, what was occurring with my parents. Carlisle had always been the calming force in my father's life, and I felt certain everything would be fine once he arrived. I could count on him to be vigilant in ensuring the care given to my parents during their hospital stay was the appropriate amount of attention and concern.

Carlisle returned my call only a few minutes later as I pulled into hospital parking.

"Esme and I are on our way, Edward. We will be there as quickly as we are able. Where were Edward and my sister being taken?"

I could hear his car's engine revving, and I knew he was speeding out of town. He lived near the San Tan Mountains southeast of Phoenix. The closest airport was approximately an hour's drive. The good thing about that was it would be freeway driving nearly the entire way, allowing him to arrive there inside of forty-five minutes.

I was practically running to the emergency room doors. "Lenox Hill. I am walking in now. Do you want to stay on the line with me or would you prefer the number?"

"Edward, you check on them, and I will make contact with a colleague and have him look in on Ed and Lizzie. I will phone you again shortly to check on your progress. We will talk to you soon. And, Edward…stay calm for your parents." He disconnected the call before I could respond. Predictably he would contact his colleague at the hospital, using whatever influence he had to find out the state of my parents' conditions. My uncle could charm anyone into giving the most intimate details of any circumstance within medical guidelines. He would probably be better acquainted with my parents' conditions than I in the next half hour.

There was an officer standing at the hospital's emergency desk when I arrived. I quickly approached him, recognizing the name on his uniform, and introduced myself. He repeated his earlier explanation of everything that had happened with my parents' accident, adding a few more details based on the investigation thus far. As much as I wanted the information, I wished for him to leave me alone to discover the condition of my parents. He explained they were hit and pushed into the wall of the tunnel and that the car had flipped on its top.

"The tunnel?" My brow furrowed in confusion. I didn't understand why my parents would have used the tunnel to get home. They had always traveled by way of the 9A to get to Englewood.

"Yes, sir. They were driving through Lincoln Tunnel. The driver of the other vehicle appears to have driven into the driver's side of your parents' vehicle, pushing the car into the wall. It appears your parents' Mercedes attempted to travel up the wall, when it flipped." He finished and held out a slip of paper which I ignored.

"Thank you for the information, Officer Davids. If you'll excuse me, I need to get the medical details in regards to my parents."

"Yes, sir. I understand your urgency. You will need this as reference for the case number." He again attempted to hand me the sheet. My arms felt heavy, and I was incapable of moving them to take possession of it. He pushed the sheet into my right hand.

"This is your copy of the accident report involving your parents. There will be a court date set for the other driver. Should you need to contact us or wish to be at the court for his hearing, you will find the number at the top of this sheet. Someone will be contacting you with the hearing date."

I absently nodded to him, shoving the paper into the inside front pocket of my sport coat. I moved to step around him to get to the ER registration desk and speak with the girl there.

"If you would, excuse me. I need to find information regarding my parents' condition."

The woman behind the desk was staring at the computer screen and held up her hand in an attempt at halting my questioning. It was a ridiculous and rude thing to do to someone who desperately needed information!

"Miss," I started through gritted teeth, "if you don't tell me about my parents, I will walk through those doors screaming their names until I find them."

She looked up at me then. She pushed herself up from her desk and stood in front of me. Her lips pulled into a tight line, and she stated in a fairly low voice, "You need to keep your voice down and stay calm or _I_ will have security remove you from this hospital."

I ground my teeth together as I glanced at her name badge as a reference before quickly returning my attention to her face. "Jessica, is it? My name is Edward Masen." I cocked my brow, as the stern expression on her face faltered in recognition of my name. For once, I was suddenly glad for my societal upbringing. Keeping my voice low, I began my verbal posturing. "My parents were brought in here after their vehicle was flipped when struck by another driver. I have no information on their conditions and would appreciate you showing some compassion, no matter how false it may be. You might do well to remember people in this ER need a bit of kindness, no matter how rotten you think your stifling desk job is."

How dare she make threats against me! Lack of information was not affording me room for patience, and I doubted anyone else in this God-forsaken ER would stand up to her in such a manner. I knew dropping the family name and insulting this girl was wrong, but I was angered and filled with such dread.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Masen. Wha-What are their n-n-n-names?" Jessica stuttered, seemingly nervous, and was again poised in front of her keyboard in anticipation of my answer.

"Elizabeth Cullen Masen and Edward Anthony Masen the Second. They were brought into the ER within the last hour." I was quickly losing my composure as I felt my knees begin to buckle. The necessity to conceal the feelings of panic was overwhelming. I did not know how much longer I would be able to cleave to my sanity. I was gripping the counter and leaning on it for support as if it alone were my lifeline.

Suddenly, I felt as though something had altered, and my panic increased. I had held out hope of my father being unharmed, but suddenly felt deep in my bones, that he was gone. I could feel a hole ripping its way through my chest as I choked back a sob. I believed my mother was still alive and knew without doubt that she would at the least hold on to see me. I became desperate in my desire to be with her. I wanted to caress her soft cheek and tell her she would be going home with me soon. I would care for her, whatever her condition, and we would work through the loss of my father together. We would get through whatever was going to be our future…together. I would be her rock as she had always been ours.

I had always been close to my parents, as the lines of communication were never closed. They consistently reminded me that I was their miracle child, as I had been the only child. It was recognized as a curse for generations in both of my parents' families. My maternal grandfather, though happy to have a healthy child, had hoped for another son to continue the name. The Cullen lineage would have died with him if not for the birth of my Uncle Carlisle the year before my mother. They had hoped for a second son, fearful of Carlisle's survival, because he had always been a sickly child.

I was the third Edward Anthony in my fraternal line. My mother had vehemently insisted I have my father's name. My father felt it was rather pretentious and had fought my mother on the matter until the day I was born. When I was younger, I appreciated that I had my father's name and would state it proudly anytime I was asked for it. As I grew older, I began to agree with his view. Nevertheless I understood my mother's logic and pride in giving him a son to carry on the Masen name. She would boast about it being her biggest accomplishment as a Masen wife.

Jessica looked up from her screen. "Mr. Masen, give me just a minute to contact the doctor." She walked across the floor to the opposite wall behind the desk, ignoring the phone by her computer, and palmed the receiver there, speaking softly.

I felt the hole in my chest burn at the edges, and I grasped at it as if to squelch the feeling. I felt as though every breath in me was leaving my body.

Jessica returned only moments later to inform me that a Dr. Gerandy would be down to see me. She stated that she had been instructed to have me directed to a private office to await his arrival. Another nurse came out from behind a wall, and I followed her to an office on the second floor, taking respite on the couch opposite the door. The woman excused herself closing the door behind her.

I felt my eyes stinging with tears and slumped forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I was desperately trying to hold myself together and was startled when I heard a wretched noise. I looked around the room to see where it had come from and realized the noise had been emitted by me. My sobbing was mixed with a gasping for air, causing the awful sound to rise from my chest to my mouth. I quickly cupped my hand over my mouth in an attempt to stifle it.

As soon as he'd entered, I immediately recognized him.

"Edward, I just spoke with your parents' doctors." His eyes seemed to glisten as his brow furrowed. "Edward, I am so sorry, your father's injuries were extensive. He took the brunt of the impact when he was hit on the driver's side. The seatbelt had jarred loose from the frame, and he was tossed when the car flipped."

He continued to give me an explanation of all the injuries my father had sustained, but I couldn't hear him through my sobs. I felt his hand on my shoulder, gripping it lightly; I was sure it was in an attempt to soothe me.

I sat bolt upright, instantly ceasing the wretched sobbing and stared at him frantically.

"Where is my mother?"

-~~{()}~~-

**Author's Note: **_**How many of you want to murder me for the cliffy? **_

_**To my readers: I saw the trust you all had in me when I posted the preface. I thank you, and I hope I do not disappoint. *squish***_

_**MPG-Honey, I love you. Tiffanyanne3ff and Carabeth—you two are the best I could ever hope for. I am so glad we're doing this together. **_

_**For those of you that are seeing my stories for the first time, welcome. **_

_**A final note: I will be putting an auction up for bid in the upcoming Fandom Gives Back Charity Auction, benefiting Alex's Lemonade Stand. I_luv_Spunk approached me and asked if I would be okay if she drew a team together. I accepted and so began her quest. She is Team Leader for Team Button-flyward. She's created a Team blog with the information **__**http:/teambutton-flyward(dot)blogspot(dot)com/**__** Make sure you follow the blog so that you don't miss out on the details. I am offering either a "Smoking in the Boys' Room" outtake or an original o/s. Team Button-flyward will be asked what you all think about what missing scene you'd like to see or a scene you wished had been extended in SitBR. I_luv_Spunk will be compiling a list and very probably will be polling you all. If you aren't familiar with the Fandom Gives Back Charity Auction please take some time to visit the website **__**http:/www(dot)thefandomgivesback(dot)com/**_


	3. Chapter 2: The Call

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 2:

The Call

-~~{()}~~-

Bella

-~~{()}~~-

I had a deep affection for the Cullens. They treated me like part of the family—flesh of their flesh, bone of their bone. Carlisle's wife, Esme, and I were especially close because we shared a love of cooking. If it weren't for her, I may not have started on the career path I was currently on. I definitely wouldn't have been having as much fun. I'd loved every job I'd ever worked while under her watchful eye.

I had just arrived home from work when the house phone rang. The caller ID flashed _C & E Cullen_ on the LED. It wasn't that it was too late at night for them to be calling, because honestly it was still early for us, but they had been known to avoid making or receiving calls after a certain point in the evening.

"Cullens' house of kinky collegiate kids. We rope 'em, you grope 'em. Bella speaking." Emmett and I had an ongoing game of seeing who could shock the 'rents more. I was determined to win.

"Bella, sweetheart, it's Esme. I need to speak with Alice and Emmett. It's an emergency, and I need them both on the line right this moment. Do you understand?"

The urgency in her voice scared me, and I hurriedly set myself into motion.

"Yes, Esme. I'm getting them now," I said as I ran up the stairs to Alice's room and banged on her door with the butt of my fist. Without waiting for an answer, I crossed the hall and did the same on Emmett's door.

"Is Carlisle all right? Are you all right?" I asked frantically. I had known them all so long I often called them my second family.

"I really need to speak…" Esme implored.

"Are you trying to…" Alice began screeching at the same time.

I shoved the phone into her hands, interrupting her. "Your mom, and it's urgent."

I crossed the hall again, listening as Alice greeted Esme on the phone, and unashamedly beat on Emmett's door until he answered.

He flung the door open in obvious annoyance. I had definitely interrupted something, because he was sporting a bit of something in his boxer shorts. "Seriously, Bells…"

I held up my hand to stop him. "Phone…your mom…now. It's urgent. She wants both you and Alice on the line."

His eyes widened in fear before he turned and raced back into his bedroom. He snatched the cordless phone from its base on his nightstand, nearly knocking the lamp onto the floor. "Mom? What's wrong? Where's Dad?" I heard him ask anxiously.

He walked toward his bathroom, and I couldn't see him anymore, so I turned my attention to Alice. I saw her begin to shake her head as tears ran streaming down her face. I was instantly worried that something terrible had happened to Carlisle and quickly closed the distance between us. I began rubbing gentle circles on her back as I grabbed a hold of her free hand.

Alice squeezed my hand and swallowed hard as I began wiping tears from her cheeks with my fingers.

"Mom?" her voice questioned, tearfully. "Do we know their conditions?"

There was a stifling thickness in the air as the part of the conversation I could hear clearly paused. All I was able to hear from the other side was Esme's muffled voice, speaking softly.

"When are you leaving?" I heard Emmett ask and then another long pause. "I'm going," he declared.

"Me too!" Alice wailed her own declaration.

"Yes…okay," they both said in unison, and then I saw Alice end the call.

"Ali?" I questioned. "Emm?" I called out over my shoulder, pulling a weeping Alice into a hug.

Emmett and Rosalie came into the hall where I stood, holding a quivering Alice in my arms as she sobbed.

"Alice? You never…" Jasper appeared in the doorway, dripping wet, with a towel wrapped around his narrow waist. He paled when he saw the expression on Emmett's face, and Alice's weeping form held tightly to me.

Emmett held Rosalie closely to his side and took a deep, shaky breath, before speaking. "Do you guys remember my Aunt Liz and Uncle Ed from our trip to New York a few years back?"

I started running through the few trips I had taken, trying to remember, but I couldn't recall. The confusion I felt must have shown on my face.

"Bells, you might not. I don't think you went with us that year," Emmett said, staring at a spot on the wall behind me and showing no emotion.

I had never seen Emmett this somber. I was so used to the big teddy bear with the personality of a class clown—always cracking jokes and ready with one of those squeezes-ya-'til-something-pops hugs.

"Your cousin Edward's parents, right?" Jasper guessed.

"Yeah. They were in a car accident tonight." He swallowed hard before continuing. "Mom and Dad are on their way to the airport now to catch a flight to New York."

Alice's weeping grew heavier as she spun and clutched onto Jasper's half-naked form. I saw him tighten his grip on her just before her knees buckled. He had always been good at realizing her needs before she'd voiced them.

"How bad?" Rosalie placed her hand on Emmett's chest in a lovingly comforting gesture. His frown grew deep, and she moved her hands to palm his face. Emmett wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tight against his chest, burying his nose in her hair.

Emmett and Alice were clinging to their significant others as if there were nothing left in the world. I felt as though I were intruding for the first time since I'd met them all. It was a very intimate moment of grief and uncertainty.

"How bad?" I asked, repeating Rose's question. "What do you need me to do?" I just wanted to help them in any way I could.

"Mom and Dad are on the first plane out of here tonight. We need to pack a bag and get out of here as soon as we can," Emmett stated.

Alice straightened up and shook her head as if she could erase everything that was happening. She began speaking as she wiped roughly at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Rose, could you pack a carry-on bag for Emmett? Make sure he's got some nice clothes as well as some of his summer clothes. At least enough for a week. We have no time to check bags; we need to get to the airport and go straight to the gate."

Rose nodded, pulled Emmett's face down to her and kissed him chastely on the lips. She whispered, "I love you," then disappeared back into Emmett's room to do as she was asked.

"Bella, I trust you to help Jasper pack some clothing for me as well. Emmett…you and I need to book our flights, so come with me."

Alice and Emmett walked up the spiral case at the end of the hall, toward the loft.

I turned to Jasper and looked him up and down. "Do you think you could throw some clothes on before we get started?"

He looked down at his body, snapped his fingers and said, "Right. Give me a sec." He ran back into Alice's room, shutting the door behind him. Within seconds the door was being pulled open again, and there stood Jasper with a pair of jeans slung low on his hips, displaying the prominent V of his toned torso.

I made sure Jasper pulled down the larger of Alice's carry-ons as well as her overnight bag. We set about packing for the unexpected but extremely urgent trip.

Alice came running into the room about five minutes later. "We have to hurry. The next flight leaves in an hour and a half. Emmett and I need to leave now if we're going to make it through security at Sky Harbor." She began throwing things in her bags along with us.

"Emmett…Rose…Don't bother with toiletries! We'll get what we need there. Just pack a toothbrush!" she shouted. "And no razors, Emmett!"

Within five minutes, both of them were packed, and the four of them were off to the airport. Neither Rosalie nor Jasper was ready to leave their partner's side as of yet. I couldn't blame them. I would want to be there for my boyfriend if he were in such a situation. Not that I had one. I didn't have time for one, and I really didn't think I needed one either.

I'd dated a little in high school. I'd dated a bit more since entering college nearly three years ago, but no one seemed the right fit. I hadn't found that magical spark. I knew most people didn't believe in it, but I did. I saw it every time I was around Carlisle and Esme. Esme had once confided in me that it had been like that since their first meeting. She told me it was like that for Carlisle's sister Liz and her husband as well.

"Oh my, God!" I exclaimed to no one. Realization had just struck; I knew who they had been talking about. I'd met them and their son forever ago. I thought I'd said hello on my way out the door one summer years ago. I remembered their son Edward being a bit shy.

I began to recall the hilarious stories Emmett would tell me about Aunt Lizzie and Carlisle playing practical jokes on each other whenever they had vacationed together. They were just two siblings having a fun time while pranking each other's families.

My heart ached for Carlisle. Lizzie was his baby sister. He adored her so very much, and I couldn't imagine how he would handle this summer if anything were to happen to her. They had already made plans to spend the Fourth of July in New York with her family, discussing every detail of the trip since January. They were going to watch the Annual Macy's Fireworks Display over the Hudson and had decided to see _Chicago_ and _Wicked_ on Broadway. They had made an entire itinerary of activity…

I had been invited, but I had summer semester courses, and I needed to work; I had tuition to pay.

Esme, in all her coaxing, went as far as to offer to pay me my regular pay, plus any overtime I would have normally expected to get, as vacation pay. I had to turn her down. I appreciated her generosity and loved that she thought of me as an extension of her family, but I wasn't into the idea of having things handed to me. I believed in working hard to get to where I was supposed to go. That was why I came home exhausted every night.

Esme was in no way a slave-driving type of boss; she was actually very kind to all of her employees. She never shied away from getting to know each and every individual that worked for her. She'd always felt that by knowing the individual personally, she could better gauge their strengths and weaknesses in the workplace to make them a better employee. Her philosophy made for less employee turnover than anyone else in the business locally. She had stacks of applications in her office of people waiting to get a job at _Esme's_.

I hadn't known it, but she had been grooming me to take over her business from the first day I had set foot in her kitchen. She knew neither of her children shared any interest in her passions for the culinary arts or the business itself. She had hoped Alice would marry a chef or Emmett would find someone that would make a good apprentice—she wanted to keep the business in the family.

When I'd started college and told her I was going to pursue a culinary career, explaining that I wanted to be the successful businesswoman she had become, she cried. She had pulled me into a hug, telling me how pleased she was that someone she loved and admired was pursuing her passions. She said I was never to consider myself anything less than family to her. I was commanded to consider running her restaurant for her one day. I had been equally flabbergasted and honored.

DeBussy began playing on my cell phone, and I rushed to answer it, knowing it was Esme. "Esme, are you all right?"

"Bella, sweetheart, don't you worry about me. Listen, we are boarding soon. I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Esme, anything at all," I agreed.

"Until I get back, _Esme's_ is yours to operate."

She couldn't have been serious.

"Esme, honestly, I know you have faith in me-" I began.

"Bella, don't try to argue the point with me right now," she demanded. "I have every faith in your abilities. You've been there for nearly five years. You are family and a trusted assistant manager. If I have to demand it of you, as your boss, I _will_ do it."

"Of course I will mind the restaurant in your absence," I relented.

"Good. I've called Zafrina and she has agreed to assist you in whatever ways you need. First thing tomorrow, I need the two of you to sit down and work a schedule for the next few days at least. I will pay you both a bonus for all the hours you will have to put in during my absence.

I heard a boarding call before Esme could speak again. _"United flight twenty-three, forty-four to Boston Logan International now boarding at gate seven."_

"Bella, sweetheart, that's us. We're connecting in Boston with flight…Carlisle, love, what is our connecting flight?" She paused for his answer; I couldn't hear him with all the background noise. "Twenty, ninety-two? Thank you, my darling. Bella, it's twenty, ninety-two. Our flight is due to arrive just after seven in the morning New York time. That will be too early to call you, but I will call after we get to the hospital and find out the necessary details of Lizzie's and Ed's conditions. I promise not to call too early."

"You call me when you have time and only if you feel the absolute need to, Esme."

"I _will_ call you. Keep your spirits up, sweetheart. Take care of our business. And Bella…?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, sweetheart."

My eyes prickled with tears that began to fall as soon as I blinked. "I love you too, Esme. Be safe."

"We will. You be safe for us all. We'll talk soon." She disconnected the call, and I was glad for it. I didn't know if I would be able to say another word without sniveling like a child.

I took a deep breath and walked straight into the kitchen. I felt the urge to bake. It was something I'd started doing when we moved into this house to attend ASU. Any time I was upset or needed to think, I baked. No one really complained; after all they did reap the rewards of my reflection.

While pulling out the ingredients for my secret Cranberry White Chocolate Cookies, I began to go over the details of operating the restaurant. Zafrina and I would need to work out the details of our schedules so that we could best run the business in Esme's absence. The difficult part would be dealing with the staff.

I had been promoted to assistant manager only three weeks ago. Zafrina and Esme knew that I could run the business solely based on my past performance. I knew the operational side of the entire restaurant like the back of my hand, but it wasn't my ability I was troubling over. I was apprehensive over how the employees would react. Mostly, I was concerned about how Lauren and Tanya would react. We'd gone to high school together and they hadn't liked me then-didn't care too much for me now either. They had worked at the restaurant for nearly as long as I had; only they hadn't made it past waiting tables. It was in no way a fault of mine, but they certainly had no problems placing the blame with me.

Zafrina called just as I was finishing the batter. After our greetings and a brief discussion of Esme's abrupt departure, I suggested we keep the full details of Esme's absence quiet. I wanted to keep it simple, merely stating that she had a family matter to tend to out-of-state. We agreed to share that information only when asked directly by the employees. We also settled on instructing the employees not to discuss the matter with customers. Even though Esme had known our patrons for years, they were not close personal friends and did not need to be informed. We decided to meet at the restaurant at nine to work out any other details and to hash out a schedule that we could agree upon.

After we'd finished our call, I went back to work on the cookies, preheating the oven and preparing three sheets for baking. I was content to slave away in kitchen and grateful to have such a wonderful place in which to experiment. I'd created so much in the kitchen and had a willing guinea pig in Emmett. I chuckled, thinking of Emmett's attempts at trading lunches with me in our junior year of high school when I'd just begun experimenting with food.

When Esme and Carlisle had the home built, Esme's one demand was that the kitchen be as close to professional as possible. She secretly informed me that she had it designed with me in mind. The basement theater was designed for all of us. The third floor loft was designed for studies and arts—excluding the culinary arts of course—which had quickly been taken over by Alice's flair for design. The home had a detached four-car garage which originally was going to be an apartment, but Emmett had convinced his parents to make it a game room, complete with a refrigerator to "properly entertain" guests.

Just as I pulled the first batch from the oven, Jasper and Rosalie returned from dropping Alice and Emmett off at the airport. Rosalie's eyes were red-rimmed, but her face showed no streaks of tears. One could only assume that she had fixed her face. The girl demanded perfection at all times.

"Oh! What did you make?" Jasper walked in the kitchen, rubbing his palms together and looking the part of a greedy cookie addict.

"My Cranberry White Chocolate cookies."

I saw Rose's eyes light up. I had made them for the first time over Christmas break. Four dozen cookies of just the one recipe, and they were all gone within hours. The very next morning, Rosalie begged me to make more, claiming to have only been able to have two of the delights. If we had been playing a round of bullshit, I would have called her on it. Truth was, outside of game play, I didn't antagonize Rosalie Lillian Hale. She was not a person you wanted to cross.

Rose bit her lip as she approached. She walked past the cookies I was slipping onto the cooling rack and headed for the refrigerator. I saw her pull a glass from the cupboard and then pause.

"Do you want something to drink, Jasper? Bella?" she asked, pointing the glass in our direction.

Jasper and I looked at each other—each of our brows knitting together—in wonder. She had actually asked if _she_ could do something for _us_.

"Don't you two start with me," she growled. "Offer expired; you can get your own."

Jasper and I laughed together as the original Rosalie Hale came back into existence.

Rose and Jasper, milk glasses in hand, sat at the kitchen island where the filled cooling racks held the much lusted after sweets. Rose was the first to dive in as I moved to grab my own glass of milk.

"When are Alice's and Emmett's flight due to arrive?" I asked.

"Just after eight New York time. They have a connecting flight in Philly. It'll be tight transferring, but they should be able to make it," Jasper relayed the information.

"All right, Carlisle's and Esme's flight gets in just after seven and they are connecting out of Boston. By the time they get their rental, Ali and Emm should have landed," I added.

I thought for a split second before I pulled my phone from my pocket. I sent a quick text to Esme letting her know the landing time for her children's flight—certain she'd get it when she turned her phone on upon landing.

"They should all go together. I worry for Esme having to support both her nephew and her husband," I said, still staring at my phone as if it could give me any information on how they were all doing at that exact moment.

"Alice will hold it together and put on a good façade. She won't let anyone see how she's feeling until she is back home in her own room. I guarantee it," Jasper promised.

"Emmett won't show much emotion. He's going to want to be tough for his parents." Rose was staring at her glass while tracing the rim with the pad of her finger. She seemed lost in thought.

"Rose? What is it?" I asked.

"It's all so senseless. One minute you're happy and enjoying life and in the next minute, your world comes crashing down around you. Life takes no prisoners. You're either living or you're not." Rose was in an emotional state. Not even her favorite sweet—which I knew she'd secretly hoarded at Christmas—could bring her out of the funk.

"That's generally how life works, sister of mine." Jasper bumped her shoulder with his, trying unsuccessfully to tease her into a smile. When she didn't respond, he changed tack. "We just live the best way we know how. If we don't live like every day is our last, then we crawl through life on our hands and knees. There is only one person I will ever get on my knees for, and she is on a plane as we speak. When she gets back, I may be on my knees for hours." He laughed at himself, obviously proud of his ability to combine his philosophizing with lewdness.

"Jasper Hale, I do believe you are hanging around Emmett way too much." I laughed.

Despite her broodiness, Rose smiled and gave a light giggle.

Jasper bumped her shoulder again as she peered at him sideways. "It amazes me at how crass you've become," she stated.

"Oh, come on, Sister Dear, can you honestly tell me you haven't been on your knees for Emmett?"

"Jasper Whitlock Hale! You crass son of a …"she rebuked and tossed her napkin at him.

"Don't you call our mother that! I will call and wake her up from her dead sleep if you do," he threatened.

"Oh who would have guessed? Mama's boy!" Rosalie ragged on Jasper.

I couldn't help but laugh at the two of them. They had eased every last ounce of tension we had all been feeling, just by doing what siblings do: playing out the rivalry.

I refrigerated the remainder of the cookie dough so that we could scoop and bake as needed for a few days. I knew that before the others returned, I would have at least two more doughs sitting in the fridge.

Rose and Jasper went up to bed after I promised them fried cinnamon apple crepes in the morning. I did a quick clean up in the kitchen and set the timer on the coffee pot so that I could have fresh coffee when I awoke.

I went to bed feeling lighter than I had a few short hours ago. I wasn't as carefree as I had been when I'd first answered Esme's call, but I had hope that things would improve for the Cullens.

-~~{()}~~-

I awoke the next morning from a nightmare of Phil and Mom being chased by a pack of coyotes through the San Tan Mountains. I remembered seeing an image of myself, lying on a bed at the base of the mountains, eyes closed and literally trying to shake myself awake. It was the oddest sensation. I could see myself, unbound, trying to wrench free from the nightmare. Visually I was unbound, but it physically felt as though I was being held down at my ankles and shoulders. That part of the nightmare scared me more than Phil and Mom being chased.

After I showered and dressed casually for my meeting with Zafrina, I ran downstairs to start on the fried cinnamon apples for the crepes. The crepes themselves wouldn't take long, but the apples needed to be cared for as they cooked. If I overcooked them, they may as well have been applesauce crepes. Ick!

Jasper was the first to appear. He entered the kitchen in nothing but his pajama bottoms, yawning and scratching his head before stretching his arms out. "Morning, Bells."

"Good morning, Jasper. How'd you sleep?"

"Like crap. After sleeping with someone for so long, it's hard to sleep alone. You know what I mean?"

I simply quirked my brow at him, staring at him while waiting for him to look up at me and realize who he had just asked.

"Oh, right. Sorry, Bells."

I had to giggle. "It's all right Jasper. I'm perfectly happy having an entire queen-sized bed to myself. I never have to worry about shoving someone off while they slept." I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

"Hey! That was one time and that was in the beginning," Jasper defended.

"It was four times in two weeks from what I remember of Alice complaining about the bruises she'd gained on her elbow, her knee _and_ her rump." Rosalie pointed out as she walked in—the picture of perfection—wrapped in her silken robe.

"You girls talk too much," Jasper grumbled.

"Lucky for you that we do, or I would never have known your favorite foods, Jazz," I reminded him. I had asked him numerous times before his birthday in March to tell me what he wanted for dinner. He always seemed to forget or didn't have time to tell me. I finally got Alice to drag it out of him.

I'd thought the simplicity of the meal was endearing, but Alice let me know that it was something his mother made for him when he'd turned six. He'd asked for it again and again, every birthday, until the day he moved out. He didn't have the heart to ask for it after that and hadn't had that meal in nearly three years. Alice wanted to bring that memory to life for him again so she asked if she could help.

We went shopping and prepared the meal together. It had been a meal big enough for an army which was nearly what we had over for dinner. All the Cullens were there along with Jasper and his parents. We had Cowboy Beans, Jalapeno Cornbread, Battered and Fried Peppered Ground Steak and Roasted Corn. A meal fit for a Southern Cowboy—which was exactly what Jasper decided to dress as on his sixth birthday.

-~~{()}~~-

When I got to the restaurant, Zafrina was there setting up the hostess station and making sure that the servers had rolled the needed amount of silverware in napkins to start our lunch service at eleven.

"Good morning, Zafrina." I smiled and handed her a snack bag full of the cookies I had made the previous night.

"You are too good to me, Bella," she praised as she opened the bag.

We took our seats at the bar and began going over the schedule. I could hear the kitchen staff working away at preparing for the day's business. The sounds from the back of the house filled the currently empty front. I could hear the cold storage door opening and shutting as items were pulled, chopped, and then stored again. I listened to our head chef barking orders to the rest of the staff, getting them to work on their various tasks. I also heard him curse at the sous chef when the soup of the day wasn't the right consistency.

Things were running as smoothly as they ever did…even in Esme's absence.

-~~{()}~~-

**A/N: I know we're still in the early stages of discovering everyone. Thank you for hanging out with me. Next week will be Edward's POV. **

**If you didn't already know, the Fandom Gives Back auctions have begun. I_luv_Spunk, the leader of Team Button-flyward, wants your help in ensuring the team gets the outtake. Go to http:/www(dot)teambutton-flyward(dot)blogspot(dot)com**** and click on the pledge form for a **_**Smoking in the Boys' Room**_** outtake. The auction information is here ****http:/www(dot)thefandomgivesback(dot)com/item(dot)php?id=681 ****Spunky…you aren't crazy after all. Just extremely brave. **

**MPG, Tiffanyanne3FF, Carabeth … ladies, I adore all of you and appreciate all your hard work.**


	4. Chapter 3: Denial

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

**A/N: I have been advised to tell you all that Edward POV is on tissue warning until further notice. Get your tissues ladies.**

-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 3:

Denial

-~~{()}~~-

Edward

-~~{()}~~-

"Edward, you must understand…both of your parents had such severe injuries to their bodies, that… They each had numerous fractures and lacerations, contusions, internal bleeding..." I listened as the words caught in Bob Gerandy's throat as his own emotions began to take over.

He had known my parents for years. In fact, he knew so many influential people that few were surprised when he was promoted to Chief of Staff at Lenox Hill. My parents had stood stalwartly by his side when the board was to make their decision between candidates.

He'd actually known my parents longer than I had existed on this earth. He'd cared for my mother through her pregnancy and had been there to deliver me into this world. A world whose brilliant and colorful life I had been enjoying only hours ago. How quickly my beautiful and contented life had changed into an existence hastening its descent into darkness.

"Doctor Gerandy, you've known me, known my parents for decades. Please do not treat me as though I were a naïve child." I needed him to be frank. I did not wish to be coddled and gently walked through my parents' situations. I ground my teeth together before repeating my earlier question. "Where is Mother?"

He gripped my shoulder tightly as he stared at my face. "My apologies, Edward. You must understand, I merely mean to convey the gravity of your mother's condition. Please…follow me, and I will show you to her bed in ICU. You need to hear me when I tell you her situation is dire. She is not expected to last the night, Edward."

I stepped away from him, forcing him to release me. I did not want nor did I need his comfort. My mother would recover from this, and I would take care of her for the remainder of her days. She and I would be weakened by loss for the remainder of our lives, but we would survive. Together we would make it through the emptiness.

"Doctor Gerandy, you are wasting precious time I could be spending with her," I stated poignantly, attempting to abstain from annoyance.

He nodded his head once in understanding before opening the door and escorting me down the seemingly endless hall.

We passed endless amounts of hospital rooms, each emanating sounds of an attempt at saving a life or prolonging one. The rooms had doors, but most sat ajar in anticipation of the medical staff's need to make an entrance. One could hear everything going on outside their door, just as the nurses could hear what was going on in the rooms. So many prying eyes and bended ears; it gave no person absolute privacy. Beeping machines, respirators and weeping could be heard as we walked along the corridor toward my mother. There was a room contained in glass here and there, but most were at the center near the nurse's station.

The sight before me as I entered one of the glass rooms nearly crippled me. My mother lay battered, bruised, and bloodied on a pristinely white hospital bed. Several tubes were running into and out of her body in various locations. I moved toward her, just wishing to hold her hand. I wanted her to feel my presence and know that I wanted her to fight with all the strength I had always known her to possess.

Doctor Gerandy began explaining that her doctors had to put her on a respirator to assist her in breathing. Her left lung had begun to fill up with blood, because my father's body had crashed into hers when his seat—not just his seatbelt as originally thought—was jarred loose from the impact of the truck hitting the driver's side of the car. They'd had to put a chest tube in to allow her to breathe easier.

He went on to explain the need for a catheter due to her incapacitation—of course, it would be easier on the doctors and nurses to not have to worry about the bedding and floors. They'd never reveal that last zing of information for fear of offending the family of the patient. I was becoming extremely agitated at the thought of someone not caring for my mother appropriately and was getting angrier still with the fact that my uncle had yet to arrive.

Logically, Uncle Carlisle had not had sufficient enough time to get to New York from Arizona. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I knew this to be true, but what I needed was advice. Advice from another in the medical profession, but someone who loved my mother as deeply as my father or I had.

I collapsed into the hard plastic chair beside my mother's bed and raised my hand to comfort her—and quite possibly myself. The realization of my father's demise was beginning to settle into my chest again. If I didn't find focus in my mother, I would be no good to her. I needed to be strong for her as she had always been for me.

I quickly found issue in deciding where to touch her. Her entire face was swollen, and I found it difficult to make any attempt to stroke her cheek. Running the pad of my thumb over her brow wasn't an option due to the welts stretching across her forehead. I was afraid to breathe on her for fear of causing her further pain.

Closing my eyes, I faintly listened as Doctor Gerandy explained the various machines hooked up to my mother. I heard the beeping of the heart monitor, telling me she was alive. The rise and fall of the respirator was distinct as it pumped air into my mother's lungs, and I found myself breathing in time with it. There was a compression device used on her legs to help her circulation and keep clots from settling into her blood stream. The clip on her finger was on a timer to record and monitor her blood pressure, letting me know that she was still fighting to be with me.

I wanted to wake from this nightmare that had become my life. I knew I had been entering my bed when I had received the call. Could I have actually fallen asleep and was now living out a nightmare in my slumber? Was I experiencing all of this anguish only to awaken and find my world to be in one piece and as brilliant as it ever was?

I could hope. Hope was all I had left. I would have gladly given every worldly possession to whomever could have woken me from my horrid state of being.

-~~{()}~~-

I felt my knees buckle before they hit the floor. I couldn't breathe. My heart felt as though it were on fire; the charred embers slowly burning a hole in my chest, leaving it open for everything to invade my soul and rip my entire being apart. I had lost my parents. _Both_ were forever gone.

I didn't care if people were staring at the sobbing, choking mess I had become in this cold, sterile hallway. I couldn't care less about disturbing other patients or their families. I had just lost everything that had truly mattered to me in the world, and I wanted it all back!

My faith had been shaken to its core. All hope I had held so tightly in my fist disintegrated into dust and disappeared the instant they told me that they could not revive her. I didn't feel a god could do this to his people. Why? Why would he strip _me_ of everything? What had I done to deserve His wrath? I had attended Sunday services with my parents, every single Sunday without complaint. I had been the perfect son, as generous a man as one could be, and I'd never been in trouble a day in my life—even in my illnesses as a child. So why attack my existence? Why would _He_ shred my world and scatter it about as if it were rubbish for demons to feast upon?

I knew Hell existed; I just never believed that purgatory could be where I had been living. There was no life for me where my reasons for being no longer existed. I had no desire to survive in a world that could be so cruel.

I pounded my fists into the floor, crying out "Why?" at the top of my lungs. I felt hands move over me and around my shoulders, and then grip me, trying to pull me up. I didn't want to get up. I wanted the floor to swallow me further into Hell. If I stayed on this earth, I would surely be worse off where the memory of their existence surrounded me than I would have been in the pits of purgatory itself.

"Edward. Please, come with me." Gerandy's voice was urgent but whispered. A part of me knew the man was suffering with me, but it wasn't his flesh that was lost. It was not his familial blood that had been spilled.

I had my eyes squeezed tightly shut and sobbed wretchedly. I cried for my parents, for my grandparents, for my uncle losing his little sister and for myself. I sobbed harder, realizing I would never again feel the gentle caress of my mother's hand. I would never again feel the impact of neither my father's loving words nor his encouraging pats upon my back. No longer would I hear their laughter over the events of my college life. No praise of pride would emanate from my parents' lips again.

I heard a pained echoing voice as it called out for a chair. The only other sounds I heard were my own sobs as my chest tightened with each breath that I took into my lungs. It was all so terribly wrong. I shouldn't have been breathing. I should have been with my parents.

I felt another set of hands join the first as I was lifted and set down in a chair. I was moving, but couldn't be bothered to open my eyes to see where I was being taken. If I could feel all that was going on around me, it was wrong. My parents were gone; I wished to be only with them. If I could shut everything and everyone out then none of this could be real.

_It can't be real! I won't let this happen!_

I opened my eyes and saw that I was being wheeled away from my mother's room. Instinctively, I reached down and grabbed the wheels with my hands.

"Stop!"

"Edward, I am taking you to my office. We can talk there," Bob Gerandy spoke gently.

I grabbed onto his coat and began pulling him down to meet me. "No! We have to go back. We can save them. We can save them both! Don't you see? If we just…just place them together in the same room. Let them be together," I pleaded. "Please! They'll be able to feel each other's presence, and I'll be there! They'll be able to feel me there, and they'll come back. I know they will! They love me! They wouldn't leave me alone like this!"

I knew I must have sounded insane, but I was reaching for any meager amount of hope I may have still possessed. Without it, I would drown. My lungs would fill with an ocean of loss, and the wet emptiness would suffocate me. I couldn't sink into my woeful sorrow and disappoint my parents. I had the Masen and Cullen lines to represent. My life had been about forming myself into a man they could be proud of. They had lost so much before me, and I had pledged to give them everything in my soul in return. Where was my purpose in their absence? How was I going to make them proud if they weren't present?

_Damn you for taking them from me! You had no right to do that to me! They are my parents! I am their son! We belong to each other, and damn it all, I want them back! You can't have them! They're mine!_

"I know, son." I couldn't tell whose voice I had heard. I wasn't certain of what I had said aloud while warring with God internally.

Gerandy's hand rested lightly on my shoulder as he spoke to me. "Let me take you to my office. You can have some privacy, and I can call for a nurse to come and tend to your hands."

I pulled my hands from my face. I hadn't even realized that I had literally grated the skin on my palms in my attempts to halt the chair and return to my mother. I chuckled manically seeing the wounds on my hands as I had imagined my chest to be. Torn open as a bloodied gash and stinging from the contact of air.

-~~{()}~~-

I was left alone in Dr. Gerandy's office to wallow in my mournful state. What had seemed like minutes of being with my mother had in actuality been hours. I hadn't realized that the sky outside had brightened with the morning sun. What I had originally seen as pristine white hospital sheets now showed themselves to be a dull, lifeless gray. Everything around me seemed to have turned darker with every passing minute.

I drew in a deep breath, feeling a vicious pain run through my chest. I used the feel of it to center myself in an attempt to gain perspective. I knew I needed to quash my emotions so that I could focus on what needed to be done.

I focused my energies and finally ended my needless sobbing. There were much more important things to be done, and I had to be the man to accomplish them. I was a Cullen-Masen gentleman, and I needed to act as such with my usual air of decorum.

I ground my teeth together and breathed deeply through my nose. Anger at all that had transpired in the previous twelve hours overtook every nerve in my body. I would not afford my soul the luxury of self-pity. Not in the time that I needed to act as the man my parents had always expected me to become.

I heard a light tapping on the door and bade the intruder to enter. I felt no remorse in marking them as an annoyance. I could hold no guilt for my actions as I had no time to let it overtake me. They were, after all, invading upon my need for solitude.

The moment my uncle entered Gerandy's office, I realized then that it had been his voice that had called out for a chair. His pained echoes had cried out to get help for my broken soul that was quickly receding deep into my cracking shell of a body. I had been so lost in my anguish over losing my parents, that I hadn't realized my uncle's earlier arrival.

I took a deep breath and presented as calm a demeanor as I could manage. Standing from the couch I had been resting upon, I greeted him and thrust my hand out toward him. "Uncle Carlisle, thank you for coming. I wish the circumstances were of a more cheerful nature."

His overall stance showed the weight of the grief bearing down on his body. He looked as though he were going to collapse from the burden of it.

He shut the door and walked toward me. "Edward…I…I don't know what to say. I'm sorry isn't enough. It will never be enough. To tell you that life is beautiful and will continue to be fruitful seems inadequate. They were words spoken to Lizzie and me when our parents…" He collapsed onto the couch I had just stood from. His face fell forward as he brought his hands up to meet it.

I watched as my usually staunch uncle fell into despair. I had never seen him undone and broken. I imagined that in the hours prior to his arrival, I had looked much as he did then. I didn't have it in me to console him. Why should I wish to comfort someone else over _my_ loss? They were after all _my_ parents, and Carlisle and his family had not lived in New York since I was a toddler.

We had lived in our own tranquil life, away from other family-save for vacations. It wasn't that I minded my cousins as much as I held myself to a higher standard. They were content in attending one of the United States' most renowned party universities while I preferred the more prestigious of colleges. Where they were boisterous and overly social, I held an air of serenity and etiquette. Noting our dissimilarities, it was difficult to understand how we had all come from the same genus.

I sat beside my uncle, not to comfort him, but because I felt uncomfortable towering over a man who was my elder. I had been raised better than that. Raised by a loving mother and father who had doted upon me at every turn.

Thoughts of my mother running her hand over the surface of a freshly handwritten letter and of my father absent-mindedly rubbing at his chin in concentration, had my chest tightening as the tears began to pool once again. I felt my throat clench and knew I wasn't going to be able to stop the sobbing. I would sit beside my distraught uncle, just as broken as he.

I felt his hand grip my shoulder and release it only to grip it once again as he relaxed his arm against my back. For all its intent, it was not a welcomed gesture, but it comforted me slightly.

I glanced at my uncle out of the corner of my eye. He held his hand to his forehead as a visor over his eyes. I could see the tears falling to the maroon carpet beneath our feet, darkening the padding with every drop that was absorbed by it.

I heard a gentle knock on the door and wiped at my eyes, just as my uncle did his.

He examined my face then asked, "Are you right for visitors?"

"I expect I don't have much choice. We will be bombarded with them in the foreseeable future." It sounded cold and callous. My mother would have taken her palm to the back of my head or tugged on my ear in retribution for my attitude. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I did not mean that as it sounded."

"It's quite alright, Edward. It is to be expected. You've experienced a great loss. Two in fact." His final statement was softer. He stood and approached the door.

I heard him take a deep breath and watched as he squared his shoulders before slowly opening the door.

"Are you alright, my love?"

I recognized the voice instantly as my aunt, Esme. She and my mother had been very close, often talking on the phone and writing letters without pause. As soon as Mother received a letter, she would sit at her desk to write one in return. Within days of sending her note, she'd receive one and the cycle would begin again. It was as if they never spoke on the phone.

"We may need a few moments more. Perhaps you should set about finding a hotel for us to settle into."

I stood up as I heard the words spoken. They had never stayed in a hotel previous to this, and I would be damned if I let them do it out of what they may have felt was common courtesy. My mother would have insisted otherwise and so I would as well.

"Uncle Carlisle. I would be remiss if I did not offer you lodging at my home. I insist you and Aunt Esme stay with me. You have never had need to stay anywhere else, and I am sure Mother…" My own voice caught in my throat as the emotions began to overtake me again. I cleared my throat and straightened my stance. "There is plenty of room between the two residences. Please, as before, our home is your home."

Uncle Carlisle opened the door to allow my aunt to step through. He held his hand up and made a gesture of sorts, but I was unsure whom he could have been relaying the silent information to.

My aunt walked toward me and quickly embraced me in her tiny arms. Her familiar scent of vanilla entered my nostrils, and I began to weep. She and Mother had been very much alike; it was never a wonder why they got on so well.

Somehow I ended up back on the couch, cradled in my aunt's arms as she lovingly stroked my hair. It was a familiar, comforting move as it was often Mother's habit to do much the same.

I heard her gently shushing me as she wept her own tears of sorrow. I had been so blinded by my own devastation, denying that anyone else could suffer as much as I, only to realize just then that many would suffer.

My aunt…my uncle…my cousins. Even my parents' close friends-including Bob Gerandy. The man had been suffering right along beside me, all night, and I had been a callous ass in regard to him. I had disregarded his emotional state, because I had been so absorbed in my own despicable grief. I had been ungentlemanly and in doing so had already dishonored my parents.

In my shame, I sobbed harder into my aunt's comforting, trying to soothe the overwhelming feeling of regret. No one deserved my wrath. They deserved compassion and understanding, because we would all grieve the loss of two upstanding citizens in society. Two people who gave of themselves, not only monetarily, but personally. They'd worked soup kitchens, walked the streets handing out clothing, and once took in a young woman who had run away because she had found herself to be pregnant and worried of her parents' reaction. Mom and Dad had taken her in. They clothed her, fed her, and when they had finally been able to convince her to contact her family, they were mediators. They were pillars of the community and they would be sorely missed.

No…no one deserved my anger and hatred…save one. The man that had slammed his truck into my parents' car. The man who had injured them beyond repair with his heartless actions. The man I wanted to have brought to the harshest of judgments. An eye for an eye. Neither New York nor New Jersey had executed anyone since 1976. It was wrong to wish death upon anyone, but this…creature deserved it. He'd killed my world.

"_Edward, we raised you better than this. You mean to tell me, as a lawyer, you would be completely content if your client went to prison and was later put to death?" my father questioned my choice._

"_Dad, honestly, is it not better that those found to be guilty, beyond a shadow of doubt, are sentenced to death so that the tax payers don't have to pay to have these murderers institutionalized with free care? Where is the justice for the murdered?"_

"_Edward!" My mother gasped out my name, obviously in shock from my questioning. _

"_Mother, really?" I didn't believe that the good should have to pay for the dastardly deeds of the wrong._

"_Edward, I am shocked. How many men have been found innocent of these crimes? There has been corruption by both Police and Fire committing crimes and framing innocents. Look at how many men have been set free."_

"_I don't believe there have been so many to constitute the continued abolishment of capital punishment."_

_Both of my parents stared at me incredulously. It was the first time I had stood my ground in a debate with them._

_My father's brow was cocked as he spoke sternly. "Son, this is one argument you will not win against us."_

I felt myself being rocked to and fro as a gentle voice called my name. The voice reminded me of a young girl, running around a beach house in a torn pink dress.

"Edward," the familiar voice coaxed.

I opened my eyes to find my cousin Alice and smiled up at her, instantly recognizing her beautiful eyes…which were filled with such sadness. I furrowed my brow in confusion, wondering what had brought a usually bubbly girl into sorrow.

Where had the time gone? I couldn't believe June had just flown by and July was here. It felt like just yesterday my parents and I had been enjoying Les Mis and our usual birthday tradition at the Carlyle.

Alice was a welcome sight and interruption as she had awoken me from my dreadful nightmare. The pain had been so real that I could feel the soreness of it in my shoulders. The unyielding damage I had seen-that had seemingly been dealt upon my life-was so harmful to my soul that I couldn't envision clawing my way out of the hole of darkness and despair I had been thrust into while I slept. It had been cavernous, echoing the heartbroken sounds of people's desperate sobbing.

I lifted my head from the pillow and looked around the room, realizing I was in a somewhat familiar office.

I placed my hands down to lift myself up and in doing so felt pain radiate through my palms. My hands were wrapped in bandages, and that was when I wished I had been dropped from the tallest building in the world. The realization that the day's events had not been a nightmare, but had in fact derailed my beautiful reality, was staggering.

Tears began to well up in my eyes as my throat constricted. I gulped down the growing lump threatening to choke me, closed my eyes, and prayed that every hour since the restaurant be erased. I needed to begin my evening birthday celebration again. I needed to insist that they stay with me, and the next time I would not relent.

-~~{()}~~-

**A/N: So there's this thing called life…it got in the way for many of us. Thank you for hanging in there.**

**Super special thanks goes out to Carabeth for your speedy return and awesome support, Tiffanyanne3ff for hanging in there with me and being my cheerleader, and mpg for dealing with my crazy-daily.**


	5. Chapter 4: Distractions

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 4:

Distractions

-~~{()}~~-

Bella

-~~{()}~~-

I had met the Hales and Cullens in high school when I'd moved to Tempe, Arizona in the middle of my sophomore year. Neither of the sibling sets had been very welcoming, but I'd learned through others that they tended to keep to themselves. It's odd to think back about how things had changed so quickly with just one incident.

Emmett had been the first to approach me. Although "approach" isn't quite the right word for what happened when I'd talked to him for the first time. "Hit me like a linebacker" might be the best phrase to describe what transpired.

He'd come barreling down the hall and around the corner, crashing into my back with his massive body. I had gone flying down to the floor face first, allowing my books and papers to scatter around me so that I could break my fall. We had both been late, heading toward the same class, and he obviously hadn't seen me when he came around the bend.

He'd apologized profusely, pulling me up from the floor. I was just happy I hadn't broken anything, or worse—landing on my face would have been an embarrassment that would have taken me weeks to get over. Cuts and bruises weren't so easily hidden when you didn't wear makeup.

Emmett immediately began helping me gather up my books and apologized over and over again. Once we had gathered everything, he insisted on helping me to class by carrying every last book. When we entered the classroom, he explained to our teacher, Mr. Varner, why we were tardy for our Geometry class. He stood there and took the blame as well as the disapproving glare.

Mr. Varner still had us in afterschool detention. He never was one for tardiness, and he didn't care too much for the jocks either. He held strictly to the "no pass, no play" policy the school had implemented. Though, secretly, I felt he purposefully failed a few of the jocks just to see them sweat it out.

After class was over, Emmett insisted I join him and his friends for lunch. That was when I met Alice, Rose, and Jasper. The five of us had been inseparable ever since, but I had always felt closer to Emmett than any of the others.

I had to admit, I'd had a little crush on him before that day. But once I met _the_ Rosalie Hale and knew the full brunt of her bitchiness, there was no way I was going to go down that road. I realized he was too much of a big brother anyway. His gentle noogies and big bear hugs were well hidden behind the cocky jock he portrayed at school. I always got to see the gentler side of him when we were away from campus.

I met Esme and Carlisle just days after that, during a study session with Emmett—he didn't want to give Varner any reason to fail him. They had arrived home together and walked through the door arm-in-arm and more affectionate than I had ever seen any adult couple act. They separated long enough to greet me warmly, insisting that I was welcome in their home at any time.

Esme later confided in me that they had known all about me before that day. Apparently, Alice and Emmett had told them everything they knew of me. When Esme began asking more questions, they decided I needed to visit the house.

I was soon invited to the family restaurant and their home for dinners. The summer before my junior year, I began my very first job at Esme's. I'd held every job that existed in the front of the house and had helped out in the back of the house. The back of the house was definitely where I wanted to be when I finished school.

-~~{()}~~-

Zafrina and I were going over the schedule for the coming week when the door chimed as someone entered.

"Well, well, well. Look who's here to hang with the morning shift on her off day." Lauren Crowley, formerly Mallory, with her nasally voice rang out shortly after the front door had chimed announcing her entrance.

"You best watch your tongue, Lauren," Zafrina warned. "She _is_ one of your bosses now and your attitude will not be tolerated. It would serve you well to remember that."

Zafrina, just like Esme, had been a mentor to me over the years. They were both mindful of how Lauren and Tanya were when it came to interacting with Bella Swan—the co-worker and former classmate. It was part of the reason they were never considered for any position other than a server. They didn't know how to respect people in general. You could hear them being catty on their breaks, speaking about customers and "their issues." Lauren and Jessica never considered that they themselves might actually be the problem.

Esme had always professed that rudeness in any form had no place when dealing with customers, and everyone was a customer. Whether they were an employee, management or a patron, every individual was to be treated as an equal. Most of the staff, including Zafrina and I, quickly adopted her sound philosophy. Jessica and Lauren did as well—to some degree. They treated me equally as horribly in college as they had in high school.

"Yes ma'am." Lauren cowered, ducking her head and slumping slightly as she walked toward the employee lockers in the breakroom.

I almost felt sorry for her, because her life was still in high school, whereas I had seemed to move on. Again, I _almost _felt sympathy…

"Thank you, Zafrina," I said, gratefully after Lauren was out of earshot. She knew how to keep both Jessica and Lauren straight. I would probably catch guff from them later on, but it was nice to have someone in my corner.

"Never you mind, child. If I were her mother, I would take her over my knee and give her a whoopin' she wouldn't soon forget." She smirked a little and winked at me. "Lucky for her _and_ me, I'm not her mother." Her body convulsed a little as she made a guttural groan.

I laughed aloud, knowing she had meant she was more than lucky that Lauren was _not_ her daughter. I too shivered at the thought of having a daughter anything like her. She'd always been a vengeful bitch in high school. The thought of Lauren as my daughter and giving her a punishment befitting a crime of vengeance brought out a small grin. It wasn't such a bad idea after all. In theory, of course.

-~~{()}~~-

I hadn't been wrong about Lauren's retaliation. Two days later, during my long shift, both Lauren and Jessica called out sick. I tried calling Ashley Dowling in, but she was taking care of her grandmother and couldn't call anyone to relieve her. I then tried to call Ben Cheney in, but he and Angela Weber had driven up to Sedona the night before since they had a day off together. My three back-ups were unable to cover. I ended up extending my other servers' sections and assisted in bussing tables and getting drinks. I'd done the jobs previously, and it hadn't been that long ago, so it wasn't like I'd forgotten how.

Calling Zafrina probably would have been the best idea, but I didn't want her or Esme to think that I couldn't handle things. Not that they'd ever thought that at all. They'd always encouraged me and insisted that I could take care of the business. I just needed to prove it to myself.

In all actuality, I could have called Jasper and asked him to help out, but I knew he was down at the shooting range, trying to distract himself from missing Alice.

Calling Rosalie and asking for her help would have been a waste of time. It wasn't that she minded dirtying her hands; she just much preferred it were motor oil or grease from an engine soiling her skin and not the common bacteria of food. It was just easier to handle things on my own.

I ended up staying later than usual that night to finish the day's paperwork—there had been no time between tables. It was Wednesday and it was always our busiest day with business people taking meetings in the restaurant. The last thing I needed was to get behind and lose focus.

At the end of the night, I sat in the office going over everything that I had to get done before I left. I needed to count the day's receipts, prep the deposit for the next morning, and pull Jessica's and Lauren's files to make notations on their individual absences. There was no point in a write-up for either of them because there was no way to prove that it had been in retaliation for anything I had said or done, but what I could do was speak with Zafrina about changing their shifts for a day to a slower block to show them that their actions and the reasons behind them were not missed.

I stretched my arms out above my head and leaned back to look at the clock on the wall above the bar. Two in the morning. I had to be back at eight. Zafrina and I were splitting Thursday's business, so I knew that if I was too worn out, I could be going home early.

-~~{()}~~-

The next morning I awoke to a very annoying alarm clock, fully dressed and lying on top of my bed. I couldn't remember how I'd gotten home or if I had gotten everything done at the restaurant. All my fretting over the business had me wide awake and in the shower within minutes of opening my eyes.

I dressed quickly and pulled my hair into a bun at the back of my head. It was going to be a short day, and I really didn't want to go through all the rigmarole of a powdered professional finish. I just wanted to get into the restaurant, prep for the day's business and then get the hell home to take a long nap. I'd barely slept since the Cullens had left. _Was that just last week? Ten days? _My lack of steady sleep wasn't due to my temporarily hectic life as much as the worry over my friends.

Rosalie and Jasper, though unemployed, weren't doing much better than I was. When I would come home late, both their bedroom lights would be on.

That first Thursday evening—only four days after Emm and Ali had left—I had come home early from a split with Zafrina and found them trying to make dinner.

-~~{()}~~-

"Thank God you're home!" Rosalie exclaimed as I walked under the archway and into the kitchen. "Talk some sense into him, please!"

I scanned my kitchen and was mortified. It was one big horrendous mess. If I hadn't known better I would have sworn the police had ransacked the kitchen looking for evidence of a crime, using a white powder to dust for fingerprints instead of black.

Flour was all over the kitchen counter and floor—a light dusting was over the heads of both Jasper and Rosalie, prompting a giggle from me. There were egg shells, boiling water and the distinct smell of burning bread. I looked at the wall oven, noting that the digital temperature read was 475 degrees. Way too high to be cooking much of anything.

"What on earth are you two making?" I asked while rushing past them, grabbing a couple of mitts off the counter and pulling the oven door open.

"I was trying to make bread to go along with the pasta. I made dinner for you. Well, for us."

I could hear the pride in Jasper's voice and could picture the beaming smile he was no doubt displaying. He really was trying to do a good thing, so I couldn't fault him for the mess.

I stared into the round pan as I pulled it from the oven. Whatever it was had darkened and remained flat. I knew the bread's inner condition would be one of two ways. It would either have a gooey center or be as hard as a rock. Given Rosalie and Jasper's cooking experience, I held little hope for anything more and was instantly afraid for my stomach's constitution.

I set the pan down on a trivet at the counter and gulped hard at the thought of eating the meal before asking my next question. "You said you made pasta?" My voice came out a little high-pitched, and I saw Rosalie's eyes narrow as she smirked at me. She'd obviously noticed my fear. In that moment, I didn't know if I was more afraid of Rosalie's devilish grin or the Hale meal.

Surveying the kitchen and the pan beside me…definitely the Hale meal. Eating it could have meant starving myself for days afterward. Seriously. The last meal Jasper had cooked had the entire house vomiting their stomach contents for thirty-six hours afterward. Esme and Carlisle had been so worried that they'd come to stay with us to be sure we were all taken care of. They had worked tirelessly through the night, rotating through all five of our rooms to ensure that we had liquids, "buckets" and anything else we may have needed.

"Don't worry. All we had to do was boil the noodles. We pulled the spaghetti sauce from the freezer and heated it up." Jasper grinned and motioned toward the stove.

I walked toward him, feeling a little less anxious. The fact that he had used my sauce and not made his own made me feel much better. I sneakily turned down the heat, because my sauce was boiling when it should have been simmering. I peered into the pot of boiling water and saw that it was heavily starched.

"Um, Jasper…sweetie…how long have you been cooking the noodles?" They looked as though they had been cooked for hours and then left to sit in the water for days afterward. The spaghetti strands were thick and I could swear the liquid was turning gelatinous.

"I brought the water to a boil, put the pasta in and let it boil for ten minutes more. Then I just let the pasta sit there so it didn't get sticky or dry." Again with the wide grin.

Poor Jasper was being so sweet, but the boy could not cook to save his life. It's no wonder his mother wouldn't let him in the kitchen.

I walked over to Jasper, lightly grasping his face. "You are so sweet for doing this. But-" I hesitated and smiled affectionately at him. "—if you ever make an attempt to cook something other than your toast in this kitchen so long as I live in this house, I will wring your neck."

Jasper's grin grew impossibly larger, and we both laughed.

"You've got it, Bella. No more cooking for this good ol' boy." He pulled me into a hug. "Is any of it salvageable?"

I looked at an amused Rosalie then pulled back from his embrace and stood in front of the stove. "My sauce."

-~~{()}~~-

"Jasper! Seriously! Stop pacing!" He was driving me insane. The Cullens' flight had landed only an hour before, and he had been pacing the floor of our living room ever since. "Rose, talk to him please!"

"Bella, I really can't. You know I'm just as anxious as he is! Look at me! I am biting my nails! When have you ever known me to bite my nails?" Rose blurted out in exasperated exhales.

It was useless. I was useless. I had been trying to help them cope with the separation since the Cullens' departure. I had naively believed that all the philosophical discussions about the human psyche with Alice would have rubbed off on me. I had been mistaken. Very little that I had done these last weeks seemed to help. When I had been able to spend time with them, I knew I was doing everything I could to ease the tension.

I had busted out every game we had in the house after baking batches upon batches of cookies. Rosalie finally put her foot down a few nights before, stating that she had gained five pounds and that it was my fault for being such a good cook. She said she would have blamed Emmett's absence, but that would have been very insensitive.

Jasper had greedily scarfed down the cookies with no complaint. He had been so anxious to have his spirited angel home that he had cleaned and organized his room with military precision. He'd gone as far as completing Alice's as well. It was going to be interesting to see how she felt about that.

Alice was my best girl friend and Emmett was my best friend all around. I loved them both so much and couldn't picture myself without them. Oh they'd gone on trips for weeks at a time before, but this time was different. This time had no end date, and I began to feel what I could only describe as separation anxiety on day two.

Rose, Jasper, and I had all been on pins and needles since early morning, waiting for their safe return.

It had been just over two weeks since Emmett and Alice had rushed out of the house to fly to New York. Esme and Carlisle had called with the news of Carlisle's sister and her husband being in a horrible car accident. We weren't given all of the details then, but we had learned a lot in the days that followed.

It was all so heart wrenching; especially so when we'd spoken to them after the funeral. Jas and Rose had received minimal texts throughout the weeks because the family had been so completely focused on helping Edward, who seemed to be having a really hard time. Who in their right mind wouldn't be in such a deeply mournful state after losing both their parents so tragically in one evening?

Zafrina and I had received two calls each throughout the weeks, but they were short check-ins on the business when Esme required a little distraction from the grief surrounding her. We informed each other of the devastation we'd heard in her voice before she'd begin sobbing so much that she'd just disconnect the call.

The best we had been able to deduce was that Carlisle's sister, Elizabeth, and her husband, Edward, had passed away due to the injuries they sustained in the car accident. Edward Masen the Third had experienced the worst loss a son or daughter could ever imagine. He'd lost both his parents within hours of each other. Poor Carlisle had lost the only living Cullen that hadn't disowned him.

We all turned, eyeing the front door as we heard a key enter the lock. Jasper ran to the door and flung it open. Alice snaked her way around her brother-who was a little dumbfounded at having the door ripped away from him—threw herself into Jasper's waiting arms and buried her face deep into the crevice of his neck. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and gripped his shoulders on the opposite sides.

Emmett rushed to Rose, still seated on the couch, scooping her up in his arms and holding her close. She, in turn, grasped his face, pressing her forehead to his and began to cry silent tears.

This was one of those difficult times in the house. It was only the second time I'd felt like the fifth wheel. I made a quick escape to the kitchen to begin making dinner for everyone, again trying to be of some help. It was the least I could do for them. I instantly began pulling out ingredients for my Rosemary Chicken. It was a house favorite, so I knew it wouldn't disappoint.

A few minutes later I heard footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Bella?" Alice called out.

I moved out from behind the kitchen island as she approached me. "Hi Ali," I greeted her in an almost whisper.

The look on her face was heartbreaking, and I held my arms open to her. She crashed her body into mine and clung so tightly that I felt as though I wouldn't be able to breathe. Then all of a sudden Emmett was there hugging us both and whispering how much he loved us.

Seconds later, Jasper and Rose were behind me, extending the near desperate embrace into a very much needed group hug. All of us were holding onto each other feeling the necessity for closeness and family. We stood there quietly embracing for a few minutes.

We all heard the doorbell chime. Emmett reluctantly backed away first with a sigh as he began wiping his eyes. My heart ached for him. I hated to see him like this—so broken. It wasn't exactly what someone would expect from a big guy.

"That must be Mom and Dad. They wanted to spend a bit of time with us all. And before you try to excuse yourself, Bella, that includes you." He pointed at me and gave me his sternest look. Usually it would make me giggle, but not this day. "They have some things they wanted to discuss with all of us."

I couldn't figure what they wanted to talk about, but could imagine they just really wanted to be close to us all on their first night back. A disconcerting thought entered my mind—_They're moving_. I began formulating a plan of action. If they were going to sell the house and move, I'd have to either move back in with Mom and Phil or find a roommate. If Esme decided to sell the restaurant, I'd need a job as well. I made a mental note to check the ads online and grab a paper to go through as well.

Carlisle and Esme walked into the kitchen just as I was putting the chicken in the oven.

"We apologize, Bella," Esme spoke, "we didn't realize you would be cooking." She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me down to her level to hug me. I looked over her shoulder, seeing they had brought take out from the restaurant. Something major was definitely going to be discussed.

"Don't worry, Esme, I'll use the chicken for salads later in the week."

She sighed and smiled at me. "Such an imaginative cook you are." She lightly palmed my cheek before walking back to her husband's side.

We all sat around the dining table that had rarely been used. Rosalie, Jasper and I talked about our lives over the last couple of weeks. I filled Esme in on the business side of things, while Rose and Jazz talked about shopping, cars, shooting, and baseball.

We listened as Carlisle forced himself to give an explanation of what had happened in New York. "By the time we reached the hospital, they were gone. Edward was just sitting there in the hall with his head in his hands. It was so hard on him. He'd had to deal with all of it alone. It was so heart-wrenching to watch—" Carlisle's voice trailed off as his eyes welled up with tears before he closed them.

I'd only met Edward once in passing, but I felt a need to comfort him; to care for him like I had the others. My need to nurture was taking over just as it had when Esme had called that first night. It was what I had done for Rosalie and Jasper in the absence of Emmett and Alice. It was what I would want if something this completely devastating had happened to me.

I didn't really know Edward, but I couldn't care. He was a human being, and a Cullen, and he had experienced a great loss. He had to feel like a total nutcase for all the emotions running rampant through him. I knew how I would have felt if I had lost my parents like that.

After the funeral the previous Thursday, the Cullens had gone with Edward to his parents' home in New Jersey. The Masen family lawyer was going to hire a realty brokerage to manage the leasing of the home. Before the management firm could move forward with showing the house, it needed to be cleared.

Edward demanded that everything be put in storage. Nothing was to be sold or given to charity under any circumstance. He was having great difficulty letting go of anything.

Carlisle said he too wasn't so willing to let go of his sister's life. He wanted to return to New York in just a few days' time to help Edward with settling the estate. He'd come back to help at the hospital for a few days and tend to a few of his patients that were insisting he be the only one to care for them.

-~~{()}~~-

_**Author's Note: My apologies for the tardiness of the update. Real life decided to beat my head against the proverbial wall until I screamed "Uncle", then continued its assault for a bit longer. Thank you so much for hanging in there. **squishes****_

_**Mpg—Thank you for pushing me when I needed the push and still loving me through my lack of enthusiasm.**_

_**Tiffanyanne3ff and Carabeth – You ladies have busy lives, and yet you still take the time to tend to my stories. Thank you so much for being you.**_


	6. Chapter 5: Anger

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

**A/N: As previously stated in Chapter 3: I have been advised to tell you all that Edward's POV is on tissue warning until further notice. Get your tissues ladies.**

-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 5:

Anger

-~~{()}~~-

Edward

-~~{()}~~-

"Edward, I'm so sorry to wake you." Alice's voice was uncharacteristically low and sorrowful as she rubbed my shoulder. "Daddy wanted me to come get you and ask that you leave the hospital with us. He's trying to make arrangements regarding—" she swallowed hard and looked off to her left. "—your parents. He and Doctor Gerandy are downstairs now."

I only nodded my response, afraid to speak. I feared that if I had spoken, I would have shattered into a million shards of fine fragile crystal.

I knew I was the preferred contact and my signature was needed on all the unsympathetic paperwork. I was the next of kin. I was the responsible party…but for the moment, I was content in allowing my uncle to assist me in the necessary preparations.

"Do you need anything? A soda? Something to eat? I know you just woke up, but I can go get you whatever you need…just ask," Alice offered kindly, lightly patting my arm.

"Can you bring back my parents?" I asked maliciously. It was ungentlemanly of me and my mother would have berated me for it, but that's what I wanted. I wanted her there, resolutely demanding that I apologize to my cousin. I would take my mother's chastisement over her death on any given day.

I watched as Alice flinched and withdrew her hand, closing her eyes as her chin quivered. I didn't have the time to care for the pain I had carelessly inflicted upon her. I was dealing with my own pain and grief.

I closed my eyes tightly and pictured myself glaring at my mother's disapproving image. _She should have been more cautious with her word choice. She'd said she could get me what I needed._ _I need you…here. _The image of my mother dissipated, shaking her head reproachfully.

There was only one thing I needed in that moment: my mother and my father alive and returned to my life, laughing with me in our home. But as easy as it was to make such a childish wish, bringing it to fruition was impossible—a wasted dream. Things like that didn't happen in real life—only in movies.

"I didn't think so." I opened my eyes, pushed myself off the couch in a fit of anger, and headed for the door. I flung it open forcefully, causing it to bounce off the rubber stop on the wall behind it and slam back into me. I ignored the blow and went in search of my uncle, running my eyes over every square inch of the hallway. He was nowhere to be found.

I spun around, nearly toppling Alice and causing her to cry out in surprise.

"Where is your father?" I demanded, forgetting her earlier statement.

"He's … he's…"

"Spit it out, damnit! I need to talk to him!" Her hesitation was causing my annoyance with her to grow exponentially.

"He's downstairs…the morgue…Doctor Gerandy."

I was only able to hear the six words whispered from her lips. It was enough information to lead me to the inevitable confrontation with my uncle.

I turned back to the hall and made my way toward the elevator. All contentedness with my uncle's assistance had disintegrated in an instant. _How dare he make arrangements without my asking him to do so. If anything is to be done, I am the one to manage it. _ _No one else! Me! They are my parents!_

I was the only one left in my family, and he was an occasional visitor—now intruder and constant interruption—in my life. He and his family could leave, and I would be none the worse for their exit. I didn't need him. I didn't need any of them. What I needed, I would never have again. They were forever lost to me as a punishment from God for a yet to be discovered act.

I was yet unable to fathom what I had done to justify His wrath raining down upon my life. Certainly a few debates with my parents, teachers, and a few classmates didn't warrant such a heinous act upon me. I had been a good son and a good student. I held excellent scores in my studies and not one professor had given complaint. I certainly hadn't lack for friends either.

-~~{()}~~-

The elevator's descent was excruciatingly slow. It lent me an excessive amount of time, affording my mind awareness and thought. I only then become aware of a slight pain traveling the length of my arm. I noticed dampness in my palms and looked down to see that my bandages were coated in blood. During my rant I had been clenching and unclenching my fists, really desperate to hit something while trying, although unsuccessfully, to remain the calm and collected gentleman I had been wrought to be.

I caught a reflection of my father on the elevator door and spun around, finding no one in the space but myself. I looked back to the doors and saw my own image staring in enraged regard. My knees felt weak, and I slid to the floor as the elevator continued its fall. I brought my knees up and bowed my head. I hadn't realized how much I looked like my father until that moment. His eyes, tousled hair, and square jaw were all mine. I was a younger version of him, but in my reflection I had seen a haggard, aging, and angry man—very unlike my father.

"Edward!"

I was swiftly pulled to my feet by my uncle and another gentleman, I didn't recognize.

"Edward? Are you all right?" My uncle stood in front of me, concern etched on his face. His eyes were swollen, red, and rimmed in a shade of lavender. His eyes…his eyes reminded me too much of my mother's.

I felt a prickling and closed my eyes, tightly clenching my jaw. I just wanted to sleep. I wished to be left alone so that I could lie upon my bed and await death. I welcomed its dark embrace so long as it meant being with my parents. I had no need for this life any longer. God had damned me and then abandoned me in my need. He knew how much they meant to me and yet He had no hesitation in speedily sweeping their souls from the planet in the most tragic of ways.

-~~{()}~~-

We exited the elevator and walked to the apartment door. I opened it, walked in and held it open to allow them to enter. I had been successful in convincing them to stay the night with me rather than make the drive to Englewood.

"Where would you like us?" my father asked with a sly smirk playing on his face.

My mother quickly covered her grin, but a giggle escaped, betraying her.

I grinned, enjoying the sound of it. Mother giggled often, but I would never wish to hear it cease.

I closed the door once they were in the parlor and turned to continue the comedic exchange. "Well, if you are questioning in earnest, I believe the guest room is suitable to your needs." I called it the guest room, but honestly no one ever slept in it, save for my parents. It was, after all, the bedroom they had occupied when they had lived there.

"Well if we are guests—" my mother arched her brow as she spoke. "—May I ask that you draw me a bath so that I may rest my aching bones?"

"I'm your son, not the staff, Mother," I deadpanned.

"Edward Anthony Masen! Your father and I never—"

I began laughing uncontrollably. The look on her face was priceless. I heard my father clearing his throat, no doubt in an attempt to stifle his own laughter.

"Young man, you are most fortunate it is your twenty-first birthday and that you are now too old for me to take over my knee."

"I believe I would very much like to see that, Lizzy," my father teased. He stood directly behind her, wrapping his arms about her waist and leaned over her shoulder to kiss her ire painted cheek.

"You do have a room in which to deal with your affections." They had never held any trepidation over publicly showing their love for one another.

"What…this?" my father teased as he playfully patted my mother's behind.

"Dad, please."

"You really should loosen up, son. When did you become such a stiff?" My father's voice was jovial as he hugged me briefly, patting me on the back. The sweet scent of pipe tobacco invaded my nostrils.

-~~{()}~~-

I couldn't remember going to bed, but I could feel the down mattress below me as I slowly turned my body.

"Edward! Sweetheart, please get up and do as you've promised," Mother's voice sang out. "You said you would take care of things, so hop to it, Angel."

My eyes opened immediately at the sound of her voice and I turned my head in the direction of the hall, listening intently for her voice again. It didn't come.

I sprang from the bed, not bothering to step into my morning shoes, and ran toward my parents' room. I threw my full weight into the door, causing it to slam into the wall behind it. I looked at my parents' vacant yet made bed before quickly surveying the room.

"Mom? Dad?" I called out, walking into the en suite, passing the oversized closets. There was no reply to my hail.

I caught the scent of freshly brewing coffee and… _is that pancakes?_ I ran at top speed down the hall and headed straight for the kitchen. In my periphery, I caught movement as I raced past the living room, but I couldn't be bothered by it. I needed to see Mom—to hold her and know that she was all right.

_She's really here. It was just a horrid nightmare._

She was standing in front of the stove with her back to me, and I just couldn't contain myself. I lunged at her, quickly spinning her and pulling her into an embrace.

"Mom," I whispered into her ear, hugging her harder than I should have. I breathed in her beautiful scent, faintly noting that something was vaguely unfamiliar. I wanted to pull back and look at her cherub-like face, but I couldn't. In that moment I needed to cleave to her as though she were my lifeline. I couldn't begin to release her, not for all the money in the world. I'd said I would gladly give up my fortune to have them back, and I had meant every word.

"Edward," she whispered, gently rubbing my back.

I began speaking as I pulled back to grasp my mother's face between the palms of my hands. "Mom, I had the most—" I noted the gauze and ace bandage that were neatly wrapped around my hands before I noticed the sorrowful look on my aunt's face.

"Edward, sweetheart?"

My knees again faltered, and I dropped to the floor. It had all been so real. They had stayed the night after my insistence that they do so. I had felt my mother's gentle smack on my arm as I'd laughed in near hysterics. I had caught the slight yet distinct smell of tobacco—undoubtedly from his pipe—when Father had embraced me, briefly wrapping his arm around me to pat my back.

Gentle murmurs were being whispered into my ear as my hair was stroked. I knew it was my aunt, but I had been so certain, only moments ago, that she was my mother, returned to me.

I lay on the floor and pulled my knees into my chest, closing my eyes tightly. I didn't want this world. This world meant that my mother and my father were both dead. This darkness meant I was alone and would never find the luxury of happiness so long as I was made to exist without them.

"Edward, sweetheart, please?"

I could hear my aunt's desperate plea as she continued her gentle nurturing. I didn't want to hear it. Hearing her voice meant that life was moving on without them. It couldn't; I wouldn't allow the earth to turn so long as they were absent from it. I pulled my hands up to my ears, quickly covering them to avoid the sounds reverberating off the floor and walls.

A screech issued from my aunt. "Carlisle!"

The floor began to vibrate almost instantly as feet pounded against it, racing toward us. The beatings on the floorboards were staggered—some decibels lower than others. More muffled murmurs seeped into my sheltered ears. I could make out my name being spoken, but I couldn't tell whom it had come from. I tried desperately to clamp down harder so that I could deafen all living sound. It wasn't working; I couldn't get the miserable noise to stop. But then suddenly…silence.

Keeping my eyes tightly sealed, I released one ear, praying that time had indeed reversed, and I would once again hear my mother's tinkling voice or my father's buoyant boisterous laughter.

"Edward, son—"

I quickly slammed my hands down over my ear once again. It was Carlisle's voice I'd heard, not my father's.

_No, no, no, no! This isn't happening._

Arms began to wrap under my legs, and I quickly jerked out of my position, kicking at the air. My foot hit something solid, unmoving. I scampered backward on the floor until my back hit a wall, crying out in pain as I hit a corner.

"Get away from me!" I wailed. My voice sounded foreign even to me. It was agonized in its pain-filled boom.

"Edward, we only want to help you. Will you allow us to?"

I looked up through my blurred vision to see my uncle kneeling before me with his palms up in front of him. Behind him I could make out Emmett's form as he rubbed at his shin. I realized that I must have made contact with his leg.

I felt so tired. I wished only to go back to bed. I allowed my head to fall forward in a single nod, giving in to their request for the moment.

-~~{()}~~-

I laid my head back against the bench I was slouched in. The sun that shone into Central Park seemed brighter, yet cool to me. I closed my eyes and smiled to myself. It truly was a beautiful day.

"Are you going to sit here and sleep, stealing a vagrant's bed? I should have you arrested for trespassing." I heard a gentle chuckle.

"Would you have me lie on the grass, stifling its liveliness instead?" I asked.

"When did you become so dramatic?"

"I get it from my mother."

Boisterous laughter erupted from the man before me.

"That you do, my son. That you most certainly do. She does have a flair for the dramatic—that is how I fell in love with her," my father conceded.

"Ed!"

"I mean it in the kindest sense of the word, my love."

I heard a light smack and opened my eyes, grinning at the sight in front of me. "Must you act like teenagers?"

"Must you act like a senior citizen ready for the grave?" my father questioned—a smirk playing on his lips—before kissing my mother's delicate hand.

"Well, if you two would act more responsibly, I may be so inclined to act more my age." I waved my hand between the two of them. "You two have forced me into this ancient form by acting out your long lost adolescence."

"If it were lost, my precious baby, then you would not be chastising us for our public display." My mother winked at me as she bent to pat my leg.

"Honestly, Mom, you two are the worst I've ever seen in this park."

"Oh, I doubt that, Edward. For example, look just beyond that tree." She pointed to a tree behind me and diagonal from our position.

I peered around the trunk, leaning toward my mother so that I could see what she saw.

"Do you see the couple on the blanket?"

"Yes, mother, I see them. They are embracing under the blanket." I leaned back onto my bench, closed my eyes, and breathed deeply. My lungs filled with the scent of trees, grass, and a well-maintained fragrant aroma of flora.

"How did you become such an unobservant boy? You are but twenty and have already begun to lose your senses."

I heard the click of her tongue, obviously chiding me for not seeing…

"I am twenty-one now mother," I insisted. "Or have you forgotten that we've just celebrated my birthday?" I opened my eyes again only to find that neither she nor my father was there beside me.

I sat upright, keenly scanning the park. As I did so, day quickly turned to night as I heard a phone ringing in the distance.

-~~{()}~~-

I slowly rolled my body to check the time on my bedside clock. Four...in the afternoon. I hadn't been able to sleep through the entire day. I took a deep breath, feeling the air breeze through my sinuses and fill my lungs. Breathing was a task easily dealt with. I had taken every breath of life for granted.

We never think about people not breathing—dying really—especially those close to us, but it happens every single moment of our lives. Somewhere on this vast planet, someone dies. For some unknown reason, I never thought of the possibility of my parents dying. They weren't exactly young, but they were young at heart and showed how young they felt every moment of their day.

But, things were different. It was the second day of my now undefined existence. Each passing day would turn colder without the warmth of my parents' love. There were no phone calls wishing me a good day. There would be no weekends in which to disappear from the world that knew us and explore a little known corner of land.

I ached to feel my mother's crushing embrace when I hadn't seen her in as little as three days. Whereas before I would turn up my nose at the smell of Father's tobacco, I now wished to have it permeate the entire apartment. I longed for one of our spirited debates. The more heated the exchange, the more alive they would be.

I heard a gentle knock at my door and sat up in bed, deciding to remain silent. If they knocked again, I would answer, otherwise, I was content to remain in my cell of solitude.

The knock came again but slightly louder, and I arose from my bed. I turned the handle slowly and pulled the door slightly ajar. "Yes?"

My uncle stood before me and seemed to regard my appearance before speaking. "Edward, may I speak with you?"

I stood there, holding the door in its position and only nodded.

Uncle Carlisle took a deep breath, looked to the floor, and shook his head. "May I come in?"

I let out a heavy sigh as I backed up, pulling the door open with me and motioning for him to enter, extending my arm and bowing my head.

"Thank you." He nodded and moved across the room to one of the chairs situated by the window. "Will you join me, please?"

I left the door open and walked over, dropping into the seat adjacent to him.

"Edward, I understand that you are grieving, but there is much to discuss. There are things that must be dealt with quickly."

"Carlisle, I don't see that this concerns you—"

"Uncle Carlisle," his voice sounded restrained. "And how, may I ask, does this _not_ concern me?"

"They were my parents. I must be the one to act on their behalf in regard to their affairs."

"Edward, she was my sister, and your father was a dear friend. I loved Lizzy as much as any brother could. She was my best friend, as well as your aunt's. Do not make assumptions on how we are feeling. You have been folding into yourself and not allowing us to help you," he raised his palm to halt my speech. "It is to be expected. However…you need to deal with the arrangements, because I do not have access to the information needed to do so."

"I will take care of it. I just need a few days."

He took another deep breath as his brows drew together. He looked at me, and I saw his jaw flex. My mother always did the same thing when she wished to speak about a concern she had.

"Edward, it cannot wait a few days. Your parents'…Lizzy's and Ed's bodies…you can't leave them to lie in the morgue, son. It isn't right."

"I said I would deal with it." I ground my teeth together. He really needn't concern himself with my parents. I had already informed him that I would deal with matters.

"Edward, if you don't wish to handle the arrangements, then please permit me the courtesy and contact the family lawyer. Concede to allowing me to handle all the funeral arrangements. They need to be laid to rest, Edward, not left to rot as if they meant nothing."

I balled my fists and stood in front of him. "How dare you!" I shouted. "They meant everything to me! They were my world, and they were ripped from me! They should be here with me, not you! You and your family showed up and inserted yourselves without me asking you to do so!"

He stood before me then, causing me to take a step in retreat. "You called me, Edward. Have you forgotten? As far as my family is concerned, they are your family as well. We are _all_ family, Edward. Whether you wish us to be so or not is of no consequence. It is fact." He wrapped his arms around me and held me to him.

I tried to wriggle free of him, but didn't have the strength in me. "Let me go!"

"Dad, are you-?" Emmett appeared in the doorway and Uncle Carlisle released me, putting his palm out to stop his son.

"You need to understand something, Edward. I loved my sister deeply and, as much pain as I am in, I know that I need to be strong and take care of you for her. Forgive me, but she would be ashamed of how you are treating the people that love you." He turned and walked toward the hall, halting in the doorway. "Your aunt has made dinner for us all. She is working through her grief by cooking for all of us and has made one of your favorite meals. I would suggest you join us, given the lack of strength your body seems to have; I know you need it." He walked out into the hallway, pulling my cousin by the arm, and disappeared from view.

I sat on the down on the edge of the chair with my head in my hands. He was right. My mother would have been ashamed of how I had been acting. It was unbecoming of a Masen or Cullen gentleman.

I rose from the chair and went into the en suite. I stared at my image in the mirror. Dark circled bags hung under my eyes, stubble was shifting into a light beard, and my lips were swollen but pale. My skin felt tightly stretched across my face, and my mouth felt as though it were coated in cashmere.

I reached for the drawer to draw out a razor and my toothbrush, stopping when I realized a rattling noise was coming from my grasp on it. My hands were shaking so violently that I couldn't pull a drawer steadily enough. I decided I was probably not in the best of conditions to be shaving and grasped only the toothbrush.

My gums burned from the lack of care over the last couple of days. Even rinsing the foam from my mouth didn't calm it. I wasn't looking forward to the sting of the mouthwash, but did it anyway. The pain of it was nothing compared to what I had felt already.

I realized I was still in the clothing I had been in the night I'd sped to the hospital. I lifted my arm, sniffing slightly and quickly deduced that it was most probably best that I shower and not subject others to my unpleasant scent.

I showered quickly, not wanting to keep my guests waiting much longer. I needed to straighten up and be the man my parents had raised. I needed to take care of the arrangements and lay them to rest in peace. Not doing so was a discredit to not only my love for them, but their very existence. They were pillars in the community, and I was a reflection of them. Acting out in anger as I had was unacceptable. I would be a better man than that. I would take great care to ensure that their final wishes were fulfilled.

I would begin my mission of righteousness at first light by contacting our family lawyer.

-~~{()}~~-

_**Author's Note: … Everyone still there? Is your tissue supply still intact? It wasn't too bad, right?**_

_**Thank you to my wifey/pre-reader MPG.**_

_**Must give love and thanks to my beautiful and talented betas who take time out of their busy schedules to fix my errors. Tiffanyanne3FF and Carabeth-what more can I say that I haven't already said?**_


	7. Chapter 6: Memory Lane

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 6:

Memory Lane

-~~{()}~~-

Bella

-~~{()}~~-

No decision had been made—in actuality the offer hadn't been presented to him as yet—but I wanted to be ready for any change. I needed to be.

When the Cullens had returned from New York, we'd all sat at the formal dining table and had dinner together. I hadn't realized how much I had missed them. It was good to have everyone together again, no matter the circumstance. Though the conversation flowed easily enough, the feeling of loss settled heavily over the room. Carlisle and Esme had sat within arm's reach and held hands throughout the meal. Jasper and Alice, as well as Rosalie and Emmett, sat closer together than I had ever seen them before. They seemed almost desperate to have at least that meager level of intimacy. I could only imagine what was going through their minds since being reunited after an extended separation. Neither couple had been apart that long since I'd met them all those years ago.

After everyone finished eating, we sat at the table a few moments as Carlisle recounted the condition they had found his nephew in when they'd arrived at the hospital. I watched as Carlisle began to weep while speaking of his sister's funeral and Edward's subsequent decision to store all of their belongings. Esme had gently stroked his back, asking that he take a break for a few moments.

"Yes, my darling wife. I'll just be a moment."

"Come on, Dad. I think I still have that Vintage '69 bottle of scotch you left here." Emmett steered Carlisle toward the well-stocked bar located just off the kitchen.

Jasper stayed behind—not quite ready to let go of Alice. He had his arms wrapped about her waist as she leaned back into him. She looked contented with her eyes closed as he whispered softly into her ear.

"Ladies, shall we clean up this mess?" Esme asked, looking around at all of us.

Alice opened her eyes and stroked Jasper's forearm. "Absolutely, Mom." Alice stood, leaving Jasper looking a bit bereft.

"Actually, if you'll excuse me, I feel a sudden urge to call my parents," Rosalie solemnly walked off toward the staircase.

"I'll go with you," Jasper called after her, standing and giving Alice a quick peck on the cheek before rushing off after his sister.

Esme, Alice and I cleared the table, chatting about nothing in particular but taking the time to laugh about Jessica's and Lauren's antics at the restaurant during the previous weeks. What I hadn't yet told Esme was the punishment I had given them for their behavior.

I set the dishes in the sink and turned to face her. "Esme, you'll find out when you go to the restaurant tomorrow, but…I'd much rather tell you in person. I'm sorry to do this at home and so soon after you've returned—"

"Bella, honey, you're rambling," Esme pointed out.

"Sorry. I bumped both Jessica and Lauren to a slower shift for their retaliatory actions. I'm sorry I didn't check with you first, but I felt it needed to be dealt with swiftly."

A smile spread across Esme's face as she reached out and gave my arm a squeeze. "I'm so proud of you for standing up for yourself," she praised. "Very well done…and with such diplomacy." She looked down at the countertop thoughtfully and hummed.

"What is it, Mom?" Alice asked, concerned.

"Oh sweetie, don't worry, I was just thinking. Monthly reviews are coming up at the restaurant, and I believe that would be the best time to discuss their actions individually. I want to hear what they have to say for themselves."

"Oh Esme, I really—"

"Bella, dear, don't you worry about a thing. You did make notes in their files, correct?"

"Yes, I did. I also made notations in the files of those I called asking to cover," I replied.

"Well then, you did everything you were supposed to do. I usually go through the files for the monthly reviews, so there is no need to worry." She rubbed a large, comforting circle on my back.

I hadn't realized how much I had truly missed having her around. Honestly, I was probably too busy to be consciously aware, but my soul felt the absence. I could tell it was recovering by the warmth spreading out from my chest. The love and encouragement Esme constantly gave was more than I could ever ask for.

After the table had been cleared and the dishes tucked away in the dishwasher, we regrouped at the dining room table for a _family_ meeting once the twins returned. I couldn't remember the last time I had been so nervous around any of them. I knew where the anxiety was coming from because all through dinner and our playful chatter, one question had kept looping in my mind: _What was so important, that Esme and Carlisle wanted to have a discussion with all of us?_ I'd had an inkling of an idea and that thought alone terrified me.

Carlisle sat up and leaned on his elbows on the table. "Kids…we have made a decision to propose that Edward come to Arizona and visit for an undetermined length of time."

"That's a great idea, Dad. He needs to get out of that apartment," Emmett agreed.

"Well, I would certainly understand his desire to remain in New York. His life has always been there. That being said, should he accept the offer, we need to have space available for him."

The goosebumps started on my back and spread quickly down my arms. My assumptions had been right. I needed to get my life together and get ready…fast.

Esme wrapped her arm around Carlisle's and continued for him. "We're offering a room in our home, but we feel we should offer him a space with you all as well. We want to give him options."

Carlisle spoke again, picking up where Esme had left off. "We feel he may like the peace and quiet of our home. It would afford him a lot of privacy…however, you five are closer in age to him and he may feel more at ease around you. We would ask that you respect his privacy and if he asks you for anything, we want you to feel free in helping him in whatever way you can—within reason, of course."

My mind raced to what I was now faced with. I would have to move. I was the odd woman out, and although there were three of us that were not blood related to the Cullens, two of us were certain to be related by marriage within a decade. I obviously was not one of the two.

Life as I'd known it was changing quickly. My world was crashing, and I couldn't stop it.

-~~{()}~~-

"Bella, what are you doing?" Alice asked as she entered my room.

"Just going through my past. Condensing, tossing…_hoarding_." I hadn't realized just how much I had kept from high school. I closed the yearbook and placed it in one of the decorative storage boxes I had bought earlier.

"Look at this." I held out the twelve strands of beads I had kept as a remembrance of our Mardi Gras themed prom.

She walked over, sitting on my bed as she grasped the end of the grouping. A grin spread across her face as she rolled the beads between her fingers. "That was such a great night. I'm glad you finally agreed to go with us."

"That's funny, Al, because I don't remember agreeing to anything. I remember being tricked into dressing for dinner with your parents-by you—and carried into the hotel by your bear of a brother after I'd figured everything out," I recounted. "Fun isn't exactly the term to describe how that night started."

"Hey, at least we didn't set you up with a date. That could have been even more fun…watching you squirm in your seat." She chuckled when I groaned. "It ended in fun anyway, you have to admit that."

I shook my head, muttering my disagreement.

"Come on, Bella. When are you going to admit that you did have fun and that the dancing wasn't so horrible?"

"When Emmett grows wings and flies like a pixie," I deadpanned.

A giggle erupted from her mouth. "You know…he wasn't far off last Halloween," she intoned through her giggles.

"Oh my God! Do you remember the look on Rosie's face?" I asked, heading toward my own fit of laughter.

We both began laughing uncontrollably and tears were streaming down our faces before too long. The memory of it was priceless.

-~~{()}~~-

Emmett, the forever prankster, had decided he wanted to play a joke on Rosalie before Carlisle's and Esme's Halloween party last year. He'd enlisted Alice's help in finding the right outfit—for which she later caught a slew of rage-inspired glares from Rosalie. She'd found a pattern for a knee-length powder-blue chiffon skirt and a matching tutu—Emmett's one real requirement had been the tutu-and glittering blue fairy wings. None of those pieces had any business being worn by a big hunk of man like Emmett Cullen.

Alice had called a seamstress to schedule an appointment to have measurements done so that the skirt could be made the appropriate length—no one wanted to see what was under that skirt pop out. At least I didn't. Rose would have gouged our eyes out…or at least threatened to.

I tagged along to the appointment for the sheer enjoyment of seeing everything as it unfolded. I wasn't disappointed. I was thoroughly and wholly entertained by the gleeful expression that was plastered on Emmett's face.

When Emmett stepped up onto the pedestal to be measured, the look on the seamstress's face had my body convulsing silently with laughter. I had to keep my hand over my mouth to be sure I was silent. She had obviously expected the outfit to be for Alice and was absolutely shocked at seeing this meaty monster of a man standing there instead. Her eyes grew wide and she began choking on her own saliva. While Alice was rubbing circles on the woman's back to try to comfort her, Emmett continued to stand there grinning like a loon.

The woman could not get us out of her shop fast enough. She told Alice it would be perfect and ready for her in three days time. She then insisted there was no need to bring Emmett back to try it on. If anything was wrong, she assured us that she would happily meet us at our home to do any altering.

We had a good laugh in the car over the entire episode.

When Halloween finally arrived, Alice and I were so excited that we couldn't do enough to get rid of the added energy. Emmett had planned on putting the costume on an hour before we were to leave for his parents' house. Alice and I had awoken early that morning, making certain that we had charged the video camera's battery and the backup. We also made sure we had fresh batteries for our regular cameras. We decided to keep our cell phones charging all day long-just in case. One could never have too many reserves.

When the time arrived, Alice and I were on pins and needles with the impending hilarity. She had done her duty and kept the secret so that even Jasper hadn't known about the prank. Being the only two privy to the information just made things all the more exciting. She and I were seated on the loveseat—cameras and video camera hidden in the cushions—opposite Rosalie who was stretched out on the couch, reading the latest Nora Roberts novel. Jasper was seated at Alice's feet, growing agitated with her restless legs.

"Alice, honey, please…"

We heard the door open upstairs and then an exaggerated throat clearing echoed from above. We knew that was our cue and went to work. We stealthily turned on all cameras and readied ourselves for the Hale twins' reactions. Alice pulled the video camera out from the arm of our perch just in time.

Emmett came bounding down the stairs, wand in hand, and began skipping toward Rosalie. Alice and I were in hysterics. We didn't know that he had bought himself a wand with a matching headband, complete with sparkles.

When Rosalie was able to take in his appearance, she drew in a sharp breath. Her twin had the opposite reaction. Jasper erupted into boisterous laughter.

I kept snapping away, but knew that my pictures would be crap. My arms may as well have been Jello because I couldn't keep my hands steady enough to take decent shots. My convulsions were far worse than they had been at the seamstress's shop.

The look of disgust on Rosalie's face made it even harder for us to calm down. She stood up and commanded him to take his costume off and change into something more appropriate for a man his size.

"Aw, come on, babe! Don't you want a fairy around you so you can make pretty wishes and dream happy dreams?" He batted his eyelashes, tilting his head and grinning widely.

"Emmett McCarty Cullen! If you don't get your ass upstairs and change into your zoot suit, so help me, I will withhold any and all favors," she threatened.

Emmett seemed to consider it for the briefest of moments. Rosalie's threat did nothing to deter him from his newly found game. He paraded around the house pretending that he was Silvermist from Tinker Bell's group of fairy friends. He'd skipped and flitted around, throwing his arms out as gracefully as he could manage, which trust me, was not possible. Things went horribly wrong when Emmett realized how much fun he was having and decided that he didn't _want_ to change out of the costume—at all. He wanted to surprise his parents.

Just before we left, Emmett approached Jasper, arms wide open as if he were going to give him a hug. A big burly blue fairy bear hug.

Jasper threatened bodily harm if Emmett even attempted to handle him in any way while wearing the getup—that was all the excuse Emmett needed.

Alice and I had stood back, watching as he grabbed Jasper and held him close with one arm while stroking his hair with the other. It was a scene right out of Bugs Bunny with the abominable snowman. _"I will name him George and I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him and pat him and pet him and love him and caress him…"_ Comical.

We left for Carlisle and Esme's shortly after that, dragging a very angry Rosalie along with us. Tension during our ride would have been high if not for Emmett's jovial attitude making for a lighter atmosphere. Jokes were told the entire way and no one seemed to have a care in the world-except for the brooding, pissed off blond in the front passenger seat.

When we arrived, we quickly piled out of the car and ran to the door with excitement. We were free to enter, but we had a sick desire to see the reaction on Carlisle's and Esme's faces when they caught an eyeful of their fairy son. Alice rang the doorbell and shoved her brother to the front of the group—no easy task.

Carlisle began to greet us but was immediately struck silent with his mouth agape. He stood stoically, door in hand, staring in awe at his only son, dressed as a female fairy. "Emmett McCarty Cullen, what on God's glorious earth are you wearing?"

Emmett had beamed the largest grin imaginable and stood there with a scowling Rosalie held tightly to his side. To say Rosalie was pissed off, was putting it mildly. But when the party was in full swing and we were all mingling, things seemed to have settled. We all got a good laugh at the overgrown pixie's display and took pictures to use as blackmail at a later date.

Alice and I were trying to get Esme to leave the caterers—her own staff, mind you—to do their jobs, when we heard raucous laughter coming from the large living space. We walked in to find Emmett in his pixie costume doing some Funky Chicken dance move to "Soldier Boy." It was so wrong in so many ways that I couldn't even begin to describe what it actually looked like, which was why Alice had grabbed her cell phone and used the video feature to record what was happening. The video was later safely tucked away on a flash drive that she had buried in one of her memory boxes.

After Emmett's horrific display, Esme and Carlisle began to question whether or not their son had taken the path toward a life of drugs. It took Alice and me months to convince them that Emmett was just being his newly-discovered carefree self. Emmett didn't stress over the little things anymore. He'd had his awakening and there was no going back.

Needless to say, Emmett didn't get very much love from Rosalie for weeks after. He'd been forbidden to go anywhere near her. She'd gone as far as moving back into her own room. We all had our own rooms, but Emmett and Rose had always shared his. He'd literally had to beg his way back into her good graces.

Emmett and Rosalie weren't the only ones to sleep together. Alice and Jasper shared Alice's room because as she'd put it, there was no way in hell she could deal with the size of Jasper's closets. Not that it mattered anyway. It wasn't as if she needed to move her things in. It wasn't even that Alice had a lot of clothes to overwhelm a closet, she just had a lot of memories and each piece had a home in one of the many hatboxes she had stacked within. Jasper had relented, but not without conditions of his own. One of which was to "conserve water" and shower together. That had turned out to be a difficult feat, considering their bathing together took just as long as if they had done so separately. I don't care to explain, because I don't want to imagine what goes on in there.

-~~{()}~~-

"So, out with it, Bella. Why the trip down memory lane?" Alice questioned, flipping through a few photos that lay on the bed between us.

"Well, with the possibility of your cousin moving in here, I figured I'd need to find a place—"

"What?" she interrupted. "What in the hell makes you think that you're moving out? That I'd _let_ you move out?"

"Alice, do the math. There are five bedrooms and five of us. Edward would make six. He's family, I'm not. Jasper and Rosalie practically are, simply because you all might as well be married. You're heading down that road anyway."

"So, tell me again, what that has to do with you moving out or the price of fuel?"

"Ali, he needs a room," I answered simply.

"And he has one, when and if he decides this is where he wants to be. You—" she said, pointing her well-manicured finger at me "Missy, are not going anywhere. There is a plan and it will be executed in time. Trust me."

"Ali, what are you-"

"Tut, tut, tut. Don't ask, because I will not tell. You'll just have to wait with the rest of them." She stuck her tongue out in a childish manner that was somewhat endearing.

"Ali, you do know I have no idea what you're talking about, right?"

She smiled her biggest pearly-white grin. "I'm counting on it." She rose from my bed and made her way toward my door.

"Hey, Ali…"

"Yeah, Bells." She turned on her heel.

"Thanks."

"Oh, cut that out. You know you're like a sister to me. Besides, if I have to, I'll just call Mom and Dad." She giggled, winked at me, and turned quickly, escaping out the door before I could stop her again.

I'd understood everything that Alice had said to me. I knew she didn't want me to worry, but the nearer the day of Carlisle's return to New York drew, the more nervous I felt. Just because Alice and Emmett shared rooms with their loves, didn't mean that they didn't still need those rooms for the sake of appearances. It wasn't even that Carlisle and Esme didn't know that their kids were sleeping with their significant others, I'm sure they did, but if it made it easier for them to pass over that little nuance by keeping up the façade, then who was I to break it?

-~~{()}~~-

"Bella, can I see you in the office please?" Esme very sweetly requested as I was gathering my things from my locker.

I gathered my purse, phone and keys and went to meet her.

"Can you close the door please?" she asked as I stepped through the doorway.

"Did I do something?"

"Oh honey! No, I'm sorry. My mind is a complete mess with trying to make arrangements for Carlisle's return to New York and conversations with Bob Gerandy and phone calls with family…I apologize again. Please sit." She motioned toward the seat in front of the desk.

"Aren't you going with him?" I asked, setting my purse on the floor beside me.

"No, not this time, I'm afraid. If Carlisle is able to convince our nephew to come out here, we'll need to prepare a space for him."

"I see. Well, whatever I can do to help," I offered.

"Thank you, sweetie. Actually, that's why I asked you in here. I haven't been able to rest long enough to talk with you about it or anything else. How are you doing?"

"I'm good." I emphasized by nodding a bit emphatically.

"Are you sure? Alice tells me you've been going through your things, doing a little reminiscing. She's also noticed an influx of boxes in the garage. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"Esme, it's nothing really. I'm just cleaning up my life a bit." I began to gnaw nervously on my lip.

"You, young lady, have always been a horrible liar. It's very endearing at times, but right this moment, I wish you would answer with the truth. Do I need to begin looking for another assistant manager?"

"What? No. Esme, I love working for you. Why would you think that?"

"It is because you, my dear, are acting very strangely. Now…tell me…why on earth are you packing things away? Alice says you've begun to box up your bedroom. This tells me you are planning on moving. Am I wrong?"

I'd only just begun packing away items the previous day, and I'd made sure to shut my door so that no one would see. Apparently Alice's curiosity got the better of her and won out over respecting my privacy.

I sighed heavily before answering. "I just wanted to be prepared. If your nephew makes the decision to come to Arizona and wants a room at the house, then I just assumed—"

"Oh, dear angels in Heaven." She stood up and quickly made her way around the desk. She grabbed the chair beside me, pulling it closer before sitting in it and grasping my face between her palms. "Dear, sweet Bella, we would never ask you to leave."

"But I thought—"

"Sweetheart. You're family. You've been family from the moment you set foot in our home long ago. Have we not made this clear to you?"

"But your nephew is—"

"Bella, honey, we've figured this all out. There are already two spare rooms in that house."

"What do you mean?" I asked confused.

She dropped her hands to mine and gave them a squeeze. "You don't honestly believe that Carlisle and I are that old-fashioned, unobservant or ignorant do you? Honestly, sweetheart, give us some credit."

I shook my head as tears of relief began to well in my eyes.

"Oh honey! Have you been fretting about this since that night?"

I could only nod as the tears began to fall.

"My beautiful, beautiful Bella." She palmed my cheeks and began wiping away my tears with her thumbs. "Sweetheart, you will always be family. No matter what choices you make, no matter where you go, you are forever imprinted on my heart. Carlisle and I love you as if you were our own daughter. Honey, you can't escape us. We are not so willing to give you up. We never will be."

The flood gates opened and a waterfall of tears spilled over. She knew exactly what to say, because she knew how things sat with my mother. Our relationship had been broken since the day she'd chosen him over me—her own daughter.

-~~{()}~~-

_**Author's Note: In case you didn't know…Vintage '69 is an $800 bottle of GlenLivet Scotch. It's smooth and tastes delicious! How do I know? I was lucky enough to have an In-law that was celebrating retirement and instead of champagne, we used the scotch to toast. **licks lips** And don't you dare put ice in a glass with Vintage '69! BIG no-no! That goes for RCE too, wifey. :^P)**_

_**Many thanks to all of you for your continued patience as I try to play "catch-up" after Life's rude interruptions.**_

_**Special thanks to my team of girls who support me daily, weekly, monthly. You know who you are, and I love every last one of you. *squishes and smooches***_

_**If you don't get the Bugs Bunny reference, I feel sorry for your deprived childhood. LOL Go here, but change the "(dot)" to an actual period: http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=2JlVqfC8-UI**_


	8. Chapter 7: Bargaining

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

_**Tissue warning?**_

_********__(Beta and pre-reader say "yes")_  


-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 7 :

Bargaining

-~~{()}~~-

Edward

-~~{()}~~-

My world lay before me vacant of all the color it had once been so lively with. The sound of an unyielding life surrounded me but was muted by the howling wind of despair swirling around my soul. My emotions had become a tornado which repeatedly swallowed me, spun me upward into a dizzying swirl of guilt, only to toss me back to the ground—completely broken. After every whirlwind of emotion there were people surrounding me in a vain attempt at rescue, trying in desperation to repair the damage the storm life had dealt. I didn't care to waste time to explain to them that their efforts were futile. Why could they not grasp the fact that there were no reparations to make me whole again? My life had been stripped to pieces and lay scattered about its weathered floor. I would never again feel complete.

It was a daily struggle just to remove myself from my bed. I contended with the thought of any future on a daily and most often hourly basis. Everything in my world had been lost to two decisions I had not made myself: My father's decision to travel the tunnel that night and James H. Nomad's decision to drive though he was intoxicated.

I knew the events of that dreadful evening were not of my doing, and yet the consequence of not insisting my parents stay that night was eating away at the edges of my soul while the  
guilt of having them stay for a late dinner began its assault from my very center. If they had slept at my home that night or if they had not remained to have dinner they would not have been on the road with the reckless driver who had so carelessly taken them from me. Dinner had been my doing; I was certainly to blame for that portion of the events that led to the destruction of my existence.

James Hunter Nomad was charged with Vehicular Manslaughter, Driving under the Influence and Reckless Endangerment. Whatever his sentence, it would not be enough to salve the wounds that ran deep into my heart. He'd removed two very important lives from this world with his carelessness and I wanted him removed as swiftly. I hungered for justice and wished that he suffer a fate equal to those he had murdered.

Uncle Carlisle and I had argued just the other evening over the thought. The heated exchange reminded me of the debates my parents and I often had—making me yearn for them all the more.

"Edward, the man that killed your parents, being forced to live and being reminded of the lives he took while rotting in a prison cell, is a far worse punishment than killing him. By killing him, we are playing God and murderer. Would you want his blood on your hands?"

I sat in my father's chair, gripping the arm rests so tightly that pain was beginning to make itself known in my knuckles. Pain reminded me of what my mother must have suffered as she lay in the car next to my father's body, bloodied and bruised, keenly aware of the fact that she may never hear his loving words spoken aloud again.

Uncle Carlisle took my silence as permission for him to continue; I was merely attempting to be respectful in holding my tongue. "We shouldn't get to decide who lives and who dies, because we don't know where our conscience will lie after time has passed. Are you so willing to damn your soul for an eternity?" my uncle questioned incredulously.

"You are such a hypocrite!" I shouted, ejecting myself from my seat and standing before him. "You are a doctor who makes those decisions daily. Do you deny that you are given liberty over whom and what to treat? Is it not your own soul you fret after? Do not pretend to trouble over mine."

He was the one to remain silent this time, thus allowing me to continue on.

"Doctors get to decide everyday who is treatable and who isn't. Just because someone has massive internal bleeding does not mean that they are doomed to die. Every life is worth saving; are they not? If someone were rushed in with severe head trauma, is it automatically assumed there is irreparable brain damage? How do you people know? Who decides that you are the expert? Another hypocrite?"

"Edward—"

"You don't know, and nothing will convince me otherwise. Everything you do is based on assumptions. Your assumptions kill people!" I felt a sting on my cheek and raised my hand to my face, looking around to see where the slap had originated. I stared down into eyes filled with pain and watched as my uncle encircled his wife's upper body with his arms.

"You have no right to say such things to your uncle. He is a good man. He treats everyone as though they were a dear friend. His patients love him for it, as do I." Aunt Esme turned in my uncle's arms and sobbed heavily into his chest.

I looked up to find my cousins standing awestruck a few paces behind their father.

Aunt Esme's words and her actions were the awakening I had needed. It was what my mother would have done if she had heard me speak to my uncle in such a way.

Rather than continue on and further shame my mother, I turned and made my way to my father's old den. I knew precisely where he had hidden his old bottle of bourbon for the times he'd stayed in the city.

-~~{()}~~-

I could not relieve myself of the guilt that had been suffocating me for what seemed years. It had only been days, a mere five days since that first night and this was the day I was to have closure. I was to say a final farewell to my parents, only I had no opportunity to look upon their faces to do so. It wouldn't be their physical selves I would declare my love and devotion to; it would be wood, metal and ash.

Every decision had been made by my parents without my prior knowledge. Every detail had been meticulously handwritten by my mother, outlining their wishes explicitly. She wrote of their agreement in rebelling against the age old tradition of bodily burial and opted instead to be cremated and placed in the familial vault at The New York City Marble Cemetery.

The cemetery houses families as far back as the mid-eighteen hundreds—including the Masens and Cullens. All were buried in vaults below the earth floor, and it was extremely rare to have visitors on the grounds. My parents, like many others, would be hidden from view, and a marble tablet would eventually be placed on the wall to note their presence below.

In order to have my parents interred in the family vault, there had been an appeal for donation. It wasn't contemptible to request such a thing. My family, along with many others, was charged with assisting in the repair, upkeep, and general care of the cemetery. Donations from the various families and fundraisers assisted in the processes, but it was never enough. My parents had been certain the endowment was a sizable one, and left a request that I continue on in their stead.

The decision to have a memorial reception to honor my parents was left up to me. If I so chose, The NYCMC Board of Trustees was willing to allow the reception on grounds, provided it was a mild one. Why they expected a memorial to be a disturbance I haven't the faintest of ideas. I wanted it to be simple—a block of time for people to come to honor my parents and all that they had done for this city.

Aunt Esme had offered to take care of things, promising to keep it to a coffee and tea reception so that people would not find the need to loiter. It was by invitation only, and we'd had them all hand-delivered.

Uncle Carlisle had offered to go through my mother's color-coded address book to find their closest friends and ensure they received invitations. He'd also contacted Bob Gerandy to see if he'd be willing to assist in creating a guest list.

While my aunt and uncle had made themselves busy with the arrangements, I'd made my exit to enclose myself in my darkened room. The day I'd returned home from the hospital, I had pulled the rich velvet drapes closed to block out the light so that I could be alone and hidden away from life. I didn't care that the sun was unusually warm or that the city lights were bright and optimistic with the joy of life. I'd only wished to wallow in my loss.

The final decision outlined was to appoint my Uncle Carlisle as primary executor of their estate, begging the assistance of the family lawyer. I was none too pleased with this information and considered pulling Jenks aside to question how that could be; alas it had been unquestionably requested in my mother's own elegant scrawl, and I could not refute it.

-~~{()}~~-

Jason Jenks, Esquire was a well respected and caring gentleman. His family's firm had been handling both the Masen and Cullen family affairs for decades. He was a loyal family friend, and I had trusted him implicitly—as my parents had done before me.

Jenks and my mother had once plotted to have his niece Tanya and myself date when introducing us at the Museum of Natural History's Spring Charity Ball. I had found Tanya to be a rather intelligent young woman and had briefly thought she would be worth my time. However, it was her lack of compassion and the aloof way she conducted herself that kept me from furthering any semblance of a relationship with her.

Shortly after we had ended our tryst, she met Alec Volturi and they were an excellent match. He was just the gentleman Tanya needed—his wealth rivaled the combination of the Masen and Cullen estates combined—and she was the trophy he'd aspired to possess. Within months of their first meeting, Alec and Tanya were married in an extravagant ceremony which may have rivaled the royals of England.

-~~{()}~~-

My parents' wishes were executed with the utmost care, and their ashes were put to rest within the Masen family vault. I was asked if I wished to be present, but I could not bear to watch as they were sealed away from me below ground. All save for two small titanium vials. Each sealed vial held a minute portion of ash and was artistically etched with the name of the parent contained within. According to Mother I was to keep them in my possession so that I would literally have them with me when I needed them.

At first, I had thought them quite morbid for the action, but the week had been torturous, and I had found myself palming the vials, one in each hand, and rubbing the markings as I spoke to each of them in turn. I only realized how oddly calming it was after my first tearful communication with their ashes. My parents had known all too well that their unique presence would bring me a little peace.

-~~{()}~~-

Before Uncle Carlisle left New York with his family, he assured me he would return in one week's time to assist me with my parents' affairs. I had made every attempt to assure him that there was no need for his return. I was a man and most capable of handling such things. He made one phone call to the family lawyer and after that, was insistent that he come back.

The very day of my uncle's departure, I drove to my parents' home in Englewood. I thought that if I visited their home, I would be around their things and feel them there, surrounding me with their love.

Instead, I sat outside in my car that I had parked on the street. I hadn't been able to bring myself to pull into the drive and around the back where I knew Mother's rosebushes to be. My hands were shaking but had not left the steering wheel since I'd arrived. I made several attempts to, in the very least, look at the house but caught only a glimpse out of the corner of my eye. That one glimpse had caused the sharpest of pains to radiate from my chest and spiral down my arms.

The world outside grew darker the longer I sat in my car sobbing and clutching at my chest. I wanted to rip it open and tear out my heart to stop the pain from blazing through my veins with every thought of my parents. They were truly gone. I had nothing left.

-~~{()}~~-

Uncle Carlisle returned to New York as promised. The entire week of his absence, I had accomplished very little. I could count on my fingers the number of times I had eaten since his departure. I could very probably fill the remainder of the count with the number of times I had slept.

The dreams I'd had that first week after their deaths had been so vivid, that I had thought them each to be a reality—a truth that in no way could have been, permitting the deaths of my parents. I had dreamt of a visit in the park, my mother cooking breakfast, my parents staying the night in the apartment, a lively debate over whether women actually had a place in politics, and a night of reliving memories through old photographs.

The last of those false realities had drawn me back to my parents' home in Englewood. I was tripping through the process of sorting through their possessions, in an attempt at making the ever critical decision on what was important enough to be kept as if it were a treasure and what was expendable. These items would not have been in my parents' home if they weren't at least important to one of them, so how could I dismiss any of their pieces as trivial property? How does one come to the conclusion of which items to rid oneself of when it all had some meaning in a loved one's life? There were lifetimes of precious mementos from both the Masen and Cullen families. How was I to choose which were of the utmost importance to continue the legacies well past my existence? Wouldn't it all be important enough to cherish and pass on to my children?

Children. I could not even begin to entertain those errant thoughts. I had barely dragged myself through two weeks and couldn't imagine making it through the rest of the month. A family of my own was not in my future, but I did need to at least preserve the Masen legacy. The Cullen legacy could be left to my Uncle and his son.

Once the movers arrived, I tasked my uncle with watching over them to be sure nothing was stolen or damaged. He immediately set them to work, packing and removing everything from my parents' bedroom, closets, and the library. Without question the contents of those rooms were of the most importance and were to be taken to my apartment in the city. I'd decided, only days ago, to furnish their old room as it once was—as if they had never left.

I slowly began to rummage through the contents of the living room. The space was well decorated with pictures of the three of us, of Uncle Carlisle and his family, of my grandparents, and various other elder family members. As I was about to pass the mantle I spied a picture of a young boy and girl with rather exaggerated grins on their faces. I reached out, grasping it and pulled it toward me. I couldn't recall having seen it before.

"That was an excellent day for your mother and me." Uncle Carlisle was suddenly beside me, peering over at the frame in my hand. "We'd finally been able to convince our parents to permit us a ride in one of the horse carriages in Central Park. They never cared for the carriages or the people that ran them, but Lizzie and me…" He sighed, then chuckled lightly before continuing. "We just didn't care. I suppose most children are that way, but our parents were strict and constantly worrying over what was proper behavior and wouldn't tarnish the Cullen name."

I handed the silver frame to him. "She'd want you to have it."

"Edward, your mother is—"

"Probably thinking, 'if my brother doesn't quiet down and listen to my son, I'm going to haunt his home for all of eternity.'" I gave him a shadow of a smile and pushed the frame into his hand. "Please."

He nodded and then silently walked to the back of the house where the movers were still at work. I looked around the room, deciding my original assessment was best. Everything needed to be stored or placed in our apartment in the city. Nothing was to be taken from me; the loss I had suffered was already too much for any one man to bear.

After storing a majority of my parents' furnishings, I contacted Jenks and asked that he let our broker know that we were ready to lease the house. I couldn't so easily rid myself of their home. I hadn't visited much, but it was very much a part of them and not easy to remove from their list of possessions. Jenks was a bit taken aback, but he was a good man and a good lawyer. He did as he was asked without a word.

I personally carried a few items home with me. Dad's favorite smoking jacket, with the pipe stuck in the right inside pocket. He never smoked it, just put it to his mouth in a playful gesture for my mother. He would always wiggle his brows at her. My mother's jewelry was all staying with me. Some of the pieces were Masen family heirlooms. My favorite was the heart-shaped diamond charm. Mom saved wearing the piece for special occasions. When I was going through their things, I found some things which shocked me.

Just before we were to depart, Uncle Carlisle had presented me with a box of handwritten letters which had been stored in a drawer in my mother's closet. All letters, save for one, were bound together. I removed the lone letter, opening it and finding my mother's handwriting.

_October 14, 2003_

_My dearest Edward Anthony,_

_It is my fiftieth birthday today. You and your father are so wonderful. I so enjoyed our dinner this evening. I cannot believe the joy the two of you have brought into my life. You both continue to amaze me with the love you have __shown__. I am truly blessed to be allowed to have great men such as you in my life. _

_If you are reading this letter, your father and I have left this world too soon to see our grandchildren. I am so sorry my beautiful boy. I never wanted to leave you before we had a lifetime filled with wonderful memories._

_I had planned on giving you my letters on the day you were to give us news of your first child. I had hoped to see you wed to a beautiful woman. A woman who would love you, knowing your every flaw, pain, joy and victory. A woman who would love you and cherish you the way you deserve. She would understand the miracle you are to this family and consider herself lucky to be a part of your life._

_She would have to be a strong woman as well, and I am sure you will find her one day. I know that look on your face at this very moment. You wonder at why I use the word strong to describe her._

_You, my precocious child, can be a bit of a geezer. I am laughing as I write this to you, but my darling Edward…you are indeed a grumpy old man in your adolescence. My wish is that you find a woman that may be best able to stand up to your rigid exterior and thrust herself into your heart, finding the love you protect so carefully __and __filling that beautiful face of yours with a joy you've only found in her. _

_My precious son, I cannot tell you enough how much you were loved from the day we found out about you. I only hope my letters may convey this in some part._

_I love you and am truly blessed to have known you._

_Your loving mother,_

_Elizabeth Marie Cullen-Masen_

I couldn't contain my tears. I wiped at my eyes in an attempt at clearing my vision so that I may continue to look through the box. I could see the dates written on the corners of the envelopes. Inside each envelope was a piece of her stationery with her elegant scrawl. My mother had written letters to me every year of my birth. I continued to rummage through, noting that still others were dated before my birth. I choked back a sob as I opened her last letter with trembling hands.

_June 1, 2010_

_Edward Anthony,_

_You turn 21 today, my beautiful boy. I know we tell you often, but we can never forget the miracle you are to us. I don't know what I ever did to deserve such a son. The love and joy you've brought to our little family overflows and entraps me in a river of warmth where I am never alone. _

_You have become the best young gentleman a mother could ever wish for. You make me so proud to be able to call you my son. I know you will make a very lucky woman incredibly happy one day. She should make you feel equally providential._

_I decided, long ago, you would give my great-grandmother's ring to that woman. Any woman able to capture your heart will surely deserve it. I don't know why this came to me today of all days, but understand that it is set aside for you my blessed boy. She will be the treasure you never knew you wanted, but will cherish for an eternity._

_You will_

My vision blurred with the tears streaming down my face, and I could no longer read anything she had written for me. She must have written it early in the day. I had lost them that very night.

It pained me deeply to do so, but I folded the letter and placed it back into the box from whence it came. I gulped hard as I placed the lid over it, unable to yet subject myself to the memories contained within.

I had tried to be strong when I saw them lying there in the hospital, but had failed them by shouting in anger at everyone around me. I had lashed out at my mother's only sibling and by doing so, shamed her memory. I had stood stoic when they informed me that my parents had been placed in the vault below ground. I had lost the two people that mattered most to me in this world. No one could ever replace them or ever endeavor to be to me what they were.

On my mother's last day on this earth, she had wished me a love as strong as hers. I didn't know that I could ever recover enough to find the kind of love my parents expressed freely. I reached into my pocket, grasping the cold titanium pieces in my fist. _I am now and forever will be broken._

-~~{()}~~-

_**Author's Note: Thank you to the usual suspects. My wifey-mpg, my pimpette and TeamLeader-I_luv_Spunk, my deliciously beautiful betas-Tiffanyanne3ff and Carabeth, and to all of you for reading through the angst. It's quite a ride to be on when writing it, then when reading it, it's a different rollercoaster. *passes tissues and hugs***_

_**Disclaimer: Yes the cemetery does actually exist and yes it is true that the family vaults are below ground. You can see the information here - **_http:/www(dot)nycmc(dot)org/home(dot)html - _Please remember, this is fiction, thus some liberties were taken regarding names, donation size, and events taking place for the internment. Also, in case you are wondering, there truly are no Masen or Cullen family vaults in that cemetery. I know, bummer._


	9. Chapter 8: A Mother's Love

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

**The wifey says slight tissue warning...but you all can handle it. Right?**

-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 8 :

A Mother's Love

-~~{()}~~-

Bella

-~~{()}~~-

"_Sweetheart, you will always be family. No matter what choices you make, no matter where you go, you are forever imprinted on my heart. Carlisle and I love you as if you were our own daughter. Honey, you can't escape us. We are not so willing to give you up. We never will be."_

Esme's love for me was unconditional, and I'd known that before, but my history of self doubt had begun to creep its way back into my conscious mind. Her words had caused the floodgates to open, and I had become an absolute weeping mess in her motherly embrace. A light rapping on the office door didn't stop the tears from flowing, but it broke me out of my prison of self-pity and brought me back into the world I both loved and hated.

"Just a moment," Esme called out to whoever was standing on the other side. I felt her hand run over my hair. "Bella, sweetheart, I will be right back, okay? I just want to see who that is. I don't want you to go anywhere, you understand?"

I was in such a state that I merely nodded my compliance and straightened up so that she could get away from me. Esme disappeared out the door, and I began wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. When I pulled my hand away I noticed the eyeliner smears and wished that I was at home in my room, lying on my bed.

I surveyed the office and noticed a box of tissues perched on one of the small, black library cabinets to the right of Esme's desk. I got up and moved to grab handfuls of the tissues because I was such an emotional wreck, that I would probably burst into tears the moment Esme returned. When I moved the tissue box, I saw a familiar picture in an unfamiliar frame and immediately the tears began to stream down my face. Only this time it was for a much different reason.

With as busy as I'd been and with all the things that had been happening with the Cullens, I had lost track of the date. I had forgotten about him—about what had happened to him just a short time ago. He had been the most important man in my life, and I had temporarily lost memory of it all.

I blinked through the tears, using the tissues in an attempt at wiping the wetness from my face; although, what I was probably doing was allowing tissue scraps and lint to create a makeshift rug as cover over my cheeks. I sat in Esme's chair, squeezing my eyes shut and taking a deep breath before opening them to stare at the familiar faces that I knew would be staring back at me.

There standing next to me was my father. He was staring into the camera with a grin so big I could actually see the white of his teeth shining from under his monstrous moustache. It was my high school graduation picture, and I'd never seen him happier. The sight of him like that made me giggle—teary-eyed.

I had heard him hoot and holler when my name was called, and embarrassingly enough, the Cullens had joined him in his boisterous cheering. There had been one person missing that day, but because of the love I felt from the people that were there to support me, I hadn't time to be unnerved by it.

It had been one of the happiest days of my life. My father had been so proud of me. I had graduated in the top ten percent of my class, and we had decided just the week before which college I would attend. I wanted to be near him so that I could continue to take care of him. We were all that each other had for so long, and I couldn't bring myself to abandon him. Even Esme's pledge to take it upon herself to care for my father hadn't been enough to convince me that he would be all right without me.

All the fuss and worrying had all turned out to be for naught. The week after my graduation, just before mine and Dad's annual summer trip to the Grand Canyon, he was shot in the line of duty. He flat-lined in the ambulance and was dead for two minutes while en route to the hospital. They revived him, and he wound up surviving the six hour operation. The bullet had entered under his arm, cracking a couple of ribs and nearly entering his heart.

He was recovering in the hospital and had begun to bark orders at not only men from his precinct, but me as well. I had been staying with him every night since they'd given him a room, and found it was finally okay for me to go home for an extended period of time. I went back to the house and packed a few things to take back to Daddy. The exhaustion from the anxiety, beeping machines, and nurses interrupting our rest to check vitals every four hours, had finally caught up with me.

I fell into a deep sleep and began dreaming of my life with Dad. Riding on his shoulders when I was little. The agony etched on his face when my mother told him she was leaving. The helplessness he exhibited as he watched a doctor cast my first broken leg. The pain on his face when he told me I was going to live with him, but Mom was "going to go away for a while." Our first Father/Daughter dance. The anxiety he obviously felt my first day of high school. The prideful gleaming smile at my graduation.

Then there had been something new. Something I hadn't experienced before. Daddy had cupped my face and told me how much he loved me, hugging me so tightly that I could feel my breath escaping my lungs, and my chest began to ache from the lack of oxygen. I woke up clutching my chest and desperately gasping for air.

My phone rang, and I had picked it up, recognizing the number as the nurse's desk on my father's floor.

"This is Bella Swan."

"Miss Swan, this is Nurse Cope."

"Oh, hi Shelly. Is Daddy getting on your nerves now too?" I chuckled into the phone, because I knew his impatience all too well.

"Bella, honey I need you to come down to the hospital? There's been a…" she paused and my chest began to ache with a pain I had yet to understand. "A development in your father's condition."

Nurse Shelly Cope and I had gotten to know each other very well over the last week. Five of the seven days, when she was on duty, she had been demanded by my father, and no one had argued. Chief of D's Charlie Swan could be a very persistent grump when he didn't get his way. That's what had kept him going out in the field even after he had been promoted.

"What is it?" I asked, but a prickling on my scalp told me that I already knew. The end of my dream began to haunt my thoughts as my heartbeat began to bang in the cage of my chest.

"Is there someone that can drive you here, sweetie?"

My knees buckled and hit the ground as I began gasping for air.

"Bella, honey?"

I couldn't form words. I wrapped my arms around myself and began rocking as I gasped through my retching sobs.

I could hear Shelly calling out to me from the phone lying on the floor in front of me. "Bella, honey, hang on. I'm calling Mrs. Cullen."

I don't know how long it was before Alice was kneeling beside me, pulling me to her and promising me that things would be alright, that she would care for me, and that she loved me. Esme got on my phone and thanked Shelly for calling her. Emmett got down on the floor with Alice and me and held us both, rocking us all in a gentle bear hug.

I later found out that Esme had used my phone to call my mother, figuring that she would surely be there to comfort me in my time of need no matter what our history. She quickly learned, as I had, that Renee Swiltzer Swan Dwyer was only interested in things that would benefit her, and there was nothing that had ever existed in my father's life that would benefit her in any way—including his daughter.

She had abandoned us both when I was only eight and had signed over her parental rights, stating that she wasn't cut out to be a mother. When I was fifteen she'd decided it was time to reconnect. Renee told me that she'd made a mistake, and there was nothing more important to her than her daughter. She'd said that it was "such a shame" that we lived so far apart or we could spend a lot more time together.

Dad was leery of why she had begun to talk to me again and warned me to be careful with depending on Renee to be available when I wanted her to be. I didn't listen very well. Renee and I saw each other every day that she was in Forks, visiting her parents.

After she'd left I had begged and badgered my dad for weeks to move us to Arizona so that we could be closer to her. He'd finally relented, and found a job with the Phoenix Police Department. He'd moved us right away, giving in to his pleading daughter's request and we left his lush, green Washington hometown to live in the arid desert of Tempe, Arizona. If I didn't understand my father's love for me before then, I did after. His love was unconditional and he'd do anything for the love of his only child.

I should have heeded his warning, but I had to learn my lesson the hard way—slowly. She didn't visit with me at all the summer we had moved there, claiming that she was busy on the road with her husband, Phil. She didn't show up for my sixteenth birthday party, which, granted, only consisted of Dad and me—because I didn't really know anyone. Then she didn't show up for a lunch _she_ had requested. Then it was Christmas. Then New Year's. By the time my high school graduation had rolled around nearly three years later, I was numb with disdain. Disdain for the person my mother was and for my own foolish beliefs.

Her hesitation in seeing me when Dad died was no surprise to me, but it had angered Esme. Alice had tried to cheer me up last year and told me that her mother had gone to Renee and given her a tongue-lashing. She had forbidden Renee to ever go near me, because she didn't know how beautiful a treasure I was and that just because she had given birth to me, did not give her the right to treat me with such disregard.

Esme's actions had only made me love her more. She had been a true mother to me, and I couldn't picture anyone being better than her.

Shortly after Dad's house was out of probate, I sold it and moved into the five-bedroom house Esme had built for her kids and their significant others. I tried to give her money for it, but she insisted I use it toward my education or put it in savings. I did both, promising to pay her back when I finally had a degree and was making real money.

That was three short years ago. It seemed like a lifetime.

-~~{()}~~-

"Bella, sweetheart?"

I had been so engrossed in my memories that I hadn't heard Esme return to the office. I kept my eyes on the picture and hummed a response, wishing I could physically go back to that day.

Esme's hands were on my shoulders. "That was a great day, wasn't it?"

I nodded as the picture again became a watery blur.

"Come on now. Your father would not want his little girl crying. You see that big smile on his face?"

In my periphery I could see her pointing at the framed memory. I merely nodded my head again, unable to speak as my tears trickled down my nose.

"He knew you were bound for great things. He knew that his little girl was going to be a power to contend with. I'd be willing to bet he was a little scared of you."

I tore my eyes away from the picture and looked up at Esme in confusion. "Scared of me?" My voice was harsh and choked from the crying I had been doing.

She hummed. "Oh, how easily we forget just how stubborn one can be." She smiled at me. "Do you remember the debate you had over the various colleges?"

I shook my head, because I honestly didn't. I remembered us deciding on one together, not arguing over which would be better.

"You don't remember calling me and asking me to mediate?" she asked.

I looked down at the picture at a complete loss, hoping to find the answer there, but nothing came.

Her hands squeezed my shoulders. "Well…you wanted to go straight to Scottsdale Culinary Institute. Charlie felt you should go to a _normal_ college first. He wanted you to have a backup plan. You kept insisting that SCI could give you the same business education that ASU's School of Business could and in less time."

The memory slammed into my brain, and I gasped in surprise. "That's right!" I exclaimed. "Daddy was being so pig-headed, and I called you there, fully expecting you to back me up."

"But I didn't," she interjected.

"No you didn't." I chuckled. "Daddy was just as surprised as I was when you took his side."

"Well, he did have a point, honey. You would be taking accounting courses and public speaking to get your degree at ASU. SCI didn't offer anything of the sort, and you and I both know how nervous you were in speaking in front of crowds."

She was right. My junior year I'd had to give an oral presentation for my marketing class, and out of nervousness, began pacing. During my third stretch, I'd tripped over my own two feet and sprained not only my ankle, but a wrist as well. My knee had swollen up like a balloon, and there was worry that I had a tear. After examination it was determined that I had hyper-extended my knee—minor in relation to the earlier assumption.

"Well, Daddy got his wish."

"Yes, he certainly did. I'm sure he is as proud of you as Carlisle and I are. We all are. Never forget that we love you, Bella. You may not be family by blood, but it doesn't mean you are any less loved." Her hand was under my chin, lifting my face so that I would look at her. "Do you understand me? You are a daughter to Carlisle and me."

My eyes welled with tears again and I threw my arms around Esme's waist, hugging her with such force that she began patting my arms.

She began to laugh. "Okay, sweetie. I need to breathe."

"Sorry," I said in earnest. "I love you, Esme."

"And I you, sweetheart."

-~~{()}~~-

After Esme was certain that I understood that I was not moving out of the house, she let me leave her office. I had to make a promise to go back into the garage and put the boxes I had hidden there back into my room.

When I got home, I went to the garage only to find that the boxes weren't where I'd placed them.

"Looking for something?" Alice's voice rang out, scaring the daylights out of me.

"Alice! Do I need to put a bell around your neck? You scared the bejeezus out of me!" I placed my hand over my heart, feeling the rapid thrumming. At least I knew I still had a heartbeat.

"Is it my fault you are so completely unobservant? I was standing right here when you pulled in," she claimed.

I waved her off. "Okay, whatever." I began walking toward her so that I could go into the house and change to ready myself for the unpacking.

"Well? Are you going to answer me?" she asked impatiently.

I rolled my eyes at her toe-tapping with her hands on her hips. "You already know what I was looking for. You are the one that tattled on me, Nosy."

She clicked her tongue and harrumphed. "I did not tattle. I only made an observation and discussed it with my mother," she stated with necktitude.

"Mmhmm. So where are they?" I asked, stepping through the garage door into the laundry room.

"Where are who?" she innocently asked.

I was beginning to get annoyed with our little game. "Alice," I warned.

"Okay, okay. They're up in your room. I had Emmett take them upstairs right after I got off the phone with Mom." She looked down at her feet and started toeing the grout. "So…you're staying, right?" she asked without looking up.

I breathed out a heavy sigh. "I guess I don't have much of a choice since your mother says I am family and—"

I was interrupted by Alice's body crashing into mine. She squeezed me so hard I felt like my head was going to pop off from the pressure she was exerting around my neck and shoulders.

"Oh, Bella! I am so glad! So very glad you are staying! You have no idea. I'll behave from now on, I swear!" She kissed my cheek and released me long enough for me to catch a singular breath before her arms enveloped me again.

I patted her back and grinned through the harsh embrace. "You and I both know you can't behave for shit, Alice."

She giggled, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. "You're probably right."

"Hey, no crying. I've done enough of that for the both of us today," I said, wiping at her cheeks with my knuckles.

"Mom called and told me," she admitted.

"I should have guessed that."

"She just wants to make sure you are okay. Oh, and her and Daddy will be coming over for dinner tonight, so ready yourself for a family fun night."

"You know you can't distract me enough to forget."

"We don't expect you to forget, Bella. We just want to be here for you." She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and ushered me from the laundry room. "Now, you are going to march your sweet tush upstairs and unpack those boxes, Missy," she ordered.

"I need to cook dinner if your parents are coming over, Ali."

"Nope. Mom said she's taking care of it; so no arguments or I will tattle." She gave me a light shove toward the stairs.

"Yes, Cap'n." I gave her a playful salute and ran up the stairs to my room.

I spent the better part of two hours unpacking the boxes I had just finished packing the day before. I had to laugh at myself for overreacting, but it was a knee-jerk reaction because of my experience with my own mother. I chastised myself for forgetting that the Cullens were better than her.

Even though I was not blood of their blood, bone of their bone, I was still family to them. They had reminded me of that nearly every day since I'd met them, and it was so very wrong of me to doubt them. I would not make that mistake again.

-~~{()}~~-

When the doorbell rang, announcing Esme and Carlisle's arrival, I stepped out of my room and nearly got knocked into the wall by Emmett.

"Sorry, Bella!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving, Emm," I called down the stairs to his back.

Rose appeared next to me, wrapping her arm through mine. "All unpacked?"

I chuckled. "You too?" I watched as she smiled and nodded her head. "Mostly. Just a few more things and it will all be undone."

"Good. Next time…talk to us. It's not only the Cullens that think of you as family, Bella. Jasper and I adore you like a sister."

It was the nicest thing Rose had ever said to me, and I had to admit I was a little taken aback. "Rosalie Lillian Hale! Are you admitting that you have loving feelings toward me?" I asked teasingly.

I felt a light smack at the back of my head as she spoke.

"Smart ass. I won't make that mistake again." She winked at me and continued down the stairs on her own.

I smiled to myself, shaking my head as I walked behind her.

We all ate our late dinner together at the dining room table. It was so unlike the last time we had been at this table. Where just a couple of weeks ago it was filled with a mournful sadness and near silence, it was now full of boisterous laughter as we all retold tales from our high school years. I was certain I was the only red-faced person at the table as Emmett relayed a skewed version of the story of how we'd met—crashed into and nearly mowing me over was more like it.

After dinner, it was game time. Emmett and Alice insisted on playing "Curses," much to Jasper's and Rosalie's chagrin. The last time we had played, Rose was mortified at finding that everyone was piling up curse cards in front of her. Esme and Carlisle had not played before—they were in for quite the surprise.

The four of us who knew the game well enough all became anxious with excitement, eyeing each other in an attempt to figure out who was going to get piled first. I had my eyes set on Emmett, because I owed him for the last time we had played.

Before too long we were all rolling in laughter as Carlisle was the first to get piled with cards. Esme had caught on quickly, and she couldn't help but add to it when she realized what was happening.

It was Carlisle's turn, but because of his predicament, he couldn't draw a challenge card very easily. In his best Count Dracula voice—as directed by one of his curse cards—he asked his wife to draw a challenge card for him. "Esme, my love, please draw a card for me. Ah-ah-ah-ah!"

I cupped my hand over my mouth to stifle my giggle, as did Alice and Esme. Emmett and Jasper burst into laughter.

"Dad, that is The Count from Sesame Street!" Emmett was laughing so hard, I was certain he was going to pee himself.

Carlisle just narrowed his eyes at his son, obviously not wanting to speak any more than he had to.

Before reading his challenge card, he recited a proverb—a demand in his pile of curse cards. "Children should be seen and not heard." As he read the card, he continued in his vampire voice and—as demanded by an additional curse card—moved his hands which were "super-glued" to his head—yet another curse card—in a pretend sign language while trying to swat flies away—a final curse card.

Alice and I were doubled over laughing so hard I knew I was going to pee myself, because I'd already had three iced teas. I got up and ran as fast as I could to the bathroom.

I was laughing heartily when I ran in and slammed the door behind me. Laughing still while I sat on the porcelain bowl. I laughed harder when I went to the sink to wash my hands. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I was in tears and splashed some of the cool water on my face. Some of the tears were from the nearly painful laughter and some of them were from thinking how much my father would have enjoyed this evening.

It was exactly three years ago, to the day, since I had lost him to a heart attack. A blood clot from somewhere in his body had raced through to his heart and after much effort to revive him, the doctors declared him dead. The doctor informed me that my father had a myocardial infarction—the clinical term for heart attack.

It didn't matter what they'd called it; either way, my daddy was gone, and I was left alone.

-~~{()}~~-

_**A/N: Firstly, if you have not played "Curses," oh my God! You are sooooo missing out on some massive hilarity. I swear to you, I am in tears every single time we play this game. If you're playing with friends, there is always someone that gets ganged-up on, and in my group of friends, it's usually the most naïve or the prankster—for a little payback of course. LOL**_

_**Thank you Tiff and Cara. You ladies rock, and I puffy-heart you both, dearly.**_

_**Wifey, LYL&L&L&L&L&L&L&L&L x infinity! :P**_

_**Lastly, my apologies again for the tardiness, but as some of you know, I've been busy in real life. I hope you all are doing well and enjoying life, because every single day is a gift. I'm learning this over and over again with every passing moment.**_


	10. Chapter 9: Resignation

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 9:

Resignation

-~~{()}~~-

Edward

-~~{()}~~-

Several moments during a given day, I would find myself staring at my mother's letters, longing to hear her voice speak them aloud rather than trying to conjure the lilt myself. I had as yet been able to read a single one since the day Uncle Carlisle had handed the simple box to me. It was much too difficult to look at her writing, let alone read her loving words.

When I had dared even approach the box, crippling pains raged through my body-the strongest of which seemed to aim directly for my heart from all directions. It burned in the way fire sears flesh, bubbling and charring from the blistering heat. No matter how hard I attempted to quell it, the flame blazed even hotter than before, boiling my heart and making me feel as though it were going to burst from the pressure inside my chest.

In the few precious minutes that I had been able to stand in front of it, I had attempted to unfold only the first letter and read through my blurred tearing vision—insanely repeating the same action and arriving at the same result. In every instance, my hands would shake violently, and I wound up refolding the letter, placing it back in its corresponding envelope. It would then be returned to its home, and I would place the box in my mother's closet in my parents' old room. It was a wonder that I hadn't torn any of the stationery or clumsily emptied the contents of the container onto the floor.

-~~{()}~~-

_July 23_

I thought back to July Fourth. Even though the fireworks display was in the southern part of the Hudson—nearly five miles southwest and numerous buildings from The Carlyle—I had been able to hear the muted explosions reverberating as they made their way through New York City. It distracted me, forcing me to image the many vibrant colors lighting the sky as Macy's Fourth of July Fireworks Show played on. I hadn't wanted the distraction and had felt that the city, nay the country, as a whole was interrupting my private pain.

My parents and I had been to the celebration every year—most recently with my aunt, uncle, and cousins—and had oohed and ahhed with the rest of the celebrants. Macy's always knew how to put on quite a show, but I had no desire for that now. I wanted to live in the dark corners of my apartment and lie, silently waiting for the ultimate darkness to envelop me into its permanent cocoon.

Despite my desire to cease the clock, life was continuing without my parents' presence and without me roaming the sidewalks to get to my regular destinations. Subways still ran the track, transporting people to work or shopping. Sirens still blared, announcing someone else's emergency—sharp reminders of the celebration that had ended so disastrously. My twenty-first birthday.

It had been just over a month since their deaths, but it had already begun to feel like a lifetime. I would stare at their picture—set upon my bedside table—for hours. It was a picture I remembered taking on one of our many evenings of dinner and quiet conversation about our daily activities. I couldn't recall why I'd taken it, but it had been just last fall.

I looked at the picture as I lay in my bed. The colors of New York City's skyline was behind them and seemed to blind me, blurring my parents' faces. I rubbed at my eyes to clear the vision, but it seemed to worsen. It may have been the only reason for the lack of focus was my inability to sleep. If it were something of a more serious nature, I couldn't say that I cared. I was happy to lie in bed, locking out the world beyond my doors, and never rise up again.

In fact, after Uncle Carlisle and I had returned home from my parents' residence in Englewood the week prior, I hadn't left the apartment. During his stay, he had gone out numerous times for groceries and the likes, but I had remained in my home. Our home. He had made attempt on several occasions to get me to go for coffee or a show, but I wouldn't allow myself the pleasure.

When he had offered to take a taxi to the airport to return to his family in Arizona, I had selfishly allowed it, eagerly agreeing to the idea. I didn't want to think of ever leaving my enclosed space again. It was home, and I was more comforted there than I would have been anywhere else.

-~~{()}~~-

I received a call from a Victim's Advocate, whom worked for the District Attorney's office, wishing to discuss the intimate details of my pain and how I was dealing with the tragic deaths of my parents. She asked after my well-being and if I had need of a reference to a psychiatrist—I declined. She politely inquired after any other relatives and their mournful state, and I obligingly gave her my uncle's number.

She then informed me of an article that had appeared in the paper due to an investigative reporter finding out that the man whom had killed my parents was on his fourth offense for DWI. He would certainly get jail time, possibly life. Either way it was far too lenient a sentence. After further discussion on the article's contents, she finally informed me that the court date for the murderer was set. She advised further that DUI/DWI cases needed to be tried within sixty days of the incident—hence the speedy timeline. We went over the charges, spoke of the defense lawyers, State's attorneys, investigations, and so on and so forth. The barrage of information was completely overwhelming.

She began asking questions of me. Did I wish the man to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law? Yes, of course. If called upon to do so, would I be willing to testify regarding my parents' lives, activities, and good health? Yes. Would I be willing to testify as to my own state of mind upon learning of the accident and their subsequent deaths? I briefly hesitated, staring at the picture at my bedside and swallowing the swollen ball that was lodged in my throat before answering in the affirmative.

I could feel my mind numbing and silencing everything around me as my eyes prickled and my vision blurred. I knew I should have been listening to the details, but I only wanted the noise to stop. I interrupted her, choking out an excuse, explaining that I had a prior appointment. I agreed to contact her again as soon as I had time available.

I pushed the button to end the call and slumped over in my chair, taking my head in my hands. Could I sit in a courtroom filled with jurors, lawyers, witnesses and gawkers? Furthermore, could I then testify in front of those same strangers and not disclose the broken man I had become? I looked at my parents' picture and grasped their vials in my palm. Yes…for them. Only for them.

I spoke to the advocate again the next day, voicing my concerns over the amount of people that would bear witness to my painful testimony. She stated that they could ask the judge to clear the courtroom of any unnecessary bodies, but it could only help the case to have them present.

She said that under certain situations the D.A. could make an ex parte application to the court for an order authorizing the videotaping of an examination; however, it was unlikely that the judge would issue such an order in this case. I was not the direct victim, and James H. Nomad's attorney could argue hearsay and have the entire testimony expunged.

I felt as though I would be on display like a lion in a cage. A victim of strangers' scrutinizing eyes, waiting for the beast to bare his teeth and show the anguish he felt at the predicament forced upon him. No matter how trapped and segregated I felt, I knew I needed to bare my soul for them. They were what mattered, and like the lion, I was meant to show my grief and outrage to all who wished to view it.

-~~{()}~~-

_July 29_

My birthday would forevermore be remembered as the day of my father's death. It was ingrained in my heart and mind, and I could not imagine ever again wishing to celebrate it. It had been thirty-nine days since that horrible evening. Uncle Carlisle and I had spoken countless times in preparation for the next day's trial. He was due to arrive in New York so that he too could give his own testimony on the events of what was undoubtedly the worst night of my life. I had called Laurent at the Carlyle and asked that a meal for two be sent to the residence. He advised of the evening's special-Walnut Crusted Mountain Meadows Lamb Rack—to which I agreed after his description of its ingredients. I knew my uncle would appreciate the savory flavors. Laurent insisted on bringing it to the apartment himself—since I had not dared to venture to the restaurant in over a month-and allowing the establishment to handle the bill. I didn't have it in me to protest, though I should have on principle; Mother never believed in taking advantage of one's generosity, no matter how reasonable. When Uncle arrived, he'd gripped my hand in a firm handshake, but quickly pulled me to him, embracing me. "Your aunt made me swear to squeeze you long enough, so that you know how much you are loved. I insisted you knew, and she insisted I obey. By all means, tell me when you feel loved enough." I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. It felt foreign, but I welcomed the ease at which it had come. I gave him a quick pat on the back. "I feel loved." He released me and stood back regarding my appearance. "You've lost weight. Esme has been concerned that you haven't had anyone to be sure you are eating. It seems she was right to worry; she won't be pleased." He quirked his brow, giving a slight frown. "Is that a beard and moustache?" I rubbed my chin and upper lip. "It is. I groom it when I have a mind to," I defended. Truthfully, I had allowed it to grow of its own accord and had not trimmed a single hair of it. "Your mother was right when she said you were becoming a bit of an old man." The room fell silent, as sadness fell between us at the mention of my mother. What should have been an off-handed joke became a memory of what could have been.

We ate in silence, both of us unmistakably anxious over our testimonies. I was to be the last to take the stand, as my words were expected to be the most powerful and evoke the most emotion—given the extensive personal details of that night. I was to divulge why we had been together that evening, their route to get home, receiving the call from the officer, racing to the hospital, the call to my uncle… I was to leave no minute detail untold—save for the change in habit at taking the tunnel to get home.

That night was the first night I had been completely incapable of sleep. There had been numerous nights where I had napped for moments at a time, but I'd never been this completely alert. I wandered the apartment and had opened my parents' bedroom door, forgetting that my uncle would be sleeping in it.

"Edward? Is that you?" His voice startled me and I realized it had come from across the room, not from the bed. I heard a clink as the lamp at the side table lit up the room.

"My apologies, Uncle. I had forgotten you were here."

"It's quite alright, Edward. I find myself having a bout of insomnia," he admitted. "And what is your excuse?"

"Much the same, I'm afraid. I am concerned about tomorrow's events," I confessed.

"It seems we both are." He stood and stared out the window, overlooking the city. "I can't imagine what it will be like tomorrow. I know that the attorneys have prepared us as best they can, but I must admit my concern over the …" he paused and turned to face me, brow furrowed. "Edward, do you hate the man that killed them?"

"With every fiber of my being," I stated with conviction.

"Hang onto that for tomorrow. It will see you through, but you must control it. Remember what Eleazar has said. Do not look at the defendant. Don't acknowledge his presence in the room. Pretend he is nothing, because he will _be_ nothing." He turned back to the window.

"How are you so even-tempered?" I wondered.

"Do not think that because there is calmness exhibited for the world to view, that there is not a sea of torment raging inside of me. If I could, I would take that man to prison myself, have him thrown into solitary with a video of your parents playing at top volume-twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week." I could see his jaw flex as he ground his teeth together.

I would rather have killed their murderer in the way he had slain my parents. I wanted him to suffer. Painfully.

-~~{()}~~-

_July 30_

We sat in a room across the hall from the courtroom, waiting our turn to go in. We had been preparing extensively for days, talking to various attorneys, the victim's advocate, investigators… it had been an endless stream of phone calls and visits. We had poured over investigative reports, what to say, what not to say, what to do and what not to do. I was being made a victim by the process of it all. It was no wonder so few cases actually make it to court.

My uncle and I were to willingly put ourselves in front of a room filled with strangers and painstakingly reveal how our lives had been devastated by the loss of Edward Anthony Masen, the second, and Elizabeth Marie Cullen-Masen. My parents. His sister and brother-in-law. It was going to be wretchedly painful for us both.

Later that evening, Uncle Carlisle and I were sitting in the apartment, shocked at what had happened at the courthouse. When the Assistant District Attorney accompanied Eleazar into the room, we had been a bit taken aback.

We were informed that James Hunter Nomad had vehemently proclaimed his innocence prior to his court date, right up until he'd learned that surviving members of his victims' family were indeed present and willing to testify. He'd announced to his lawyer and Second Chair that he wished to plead guilty and take the full sentence. Mr. Nomad and his lawyers knew that we were scheduled to testify but hadn't been convinced that either of us would actually appear in court—in fact, they had been counting on the pain of it all being too much for us to handle.

Eleazar stated that he felt Mr. Nomad was hoping for some form of leniency in his plea. He described a look of devastation on Mr. Nomad's face when the judge stated that he would strongly encourage the entire sentence be carried out at the state penitentiary—with no chance of parole. Fifty years for each count. A life sentence in its own right.

Uncle Carlisle and I had not needed to enter the courtroom. Neither of us had been required to pull our heart from our chest and lay it out for all to see the holes that had been brutally punched through by the deaths of our loved ones. The resignation of a homicidal drunk had spared our lives, but only after stealing two others that were entirely more meaningful.

We were silently sitting in the living room, each processing the day in our minds. I was staring fixedly at the leg of the coffee table in front of me when Uncle Carlisle exhaled heavily.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed," he said with a look of genuine confusion on his face. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked directly at me. "How are you feeling?"

"Much the same as you, I suppose. While I am relieved that I had no need to go over everything again, I am disappointed that I did not get to face him."

"You could go to the sentencing hearing next week," he reminded.

I shook my head. "No. I have faith in Vance's team, and I don't know that I could control myself."

Uncle Carlisle nodded and rose to his feet. "I'm going to let Esme know what has happened. Would you be interested in grabbing a bite to eat afterward?"

I shook my head again. "I'd much rather stay in."

He nodded. "I understand. Why don't we order in? My treat." He winked.

"You are my guest, Uncle—"

He put his hand up to stop me. "You are my nephew…" he paused, and I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "…my sister's son, and it is now my duty to look after you."

"Uncle Carlisle, really—" I began to protest.

"Edward, I hope you won't insult an old man who is on orders, from his wife mind you, to be sure her nephew gets a few good meals and some company."

I could not refuse him then; it would have been quite rude and inconsiderate of my aunt's feelings. Admittedly, for the first time since _that_ evening, I felt a pang of hunger.

-~~{()}~~-

_August 4_

I was again lying in the velvet cloaked darkness of my room when my phone vibrated beside me. Only yesterday, I had finally had the house phone shut off, not wanting to hear the incessant ringing any longer. I had no knowledge or proof of how they got our house number, but reporters and various other media had been calling the apartment, eager to hear all that had transpired.

"_You could be the voice for all victims of tragic events,"_ one had campaigned.

"_Your parents' legacies should live on in infamy,"_ proclaimed another.

The media knew of my parents because of their societal status, but they had no knowledge of the way my parents would tease each other in the halls or how their playful banter almost always ended in a loving kiss. They weren't even interested in those private details—not that I would divulge such things—they only wished to hear of the tragic and painful loss of lives.

A vibration on my bedside table alerted me to a call on my cell phone. I reached over and grabbed it from the tabletop, peering at the dimly lit screen to see who had felt it necessary to interrupt my quiet.

It was Uncle Carlisle—again. He had been calling three times a day, every day since he'd last left New York. I knew he was concerned and merely doing his duty in looking after his sister's son, but it was becoming quite irksome. I longed for the days when my only contacts had been my small group of friends and my parents.

"Hello, Uncle. I am well, but how are you this evening?" I droned, lying back on my pillow and grasping the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. I had used similar verbiage with every caller, in hopes of speeding through the tiresome exchanges. I didn't care to make conversation; I only wished to be left to continue to mourn in peace.

"Edward… it _is_ good to hear your voice." I was surprised to hear that it was my aunt on the line, not my uncle as the number had indicated. I was suddenly nervous; neither of us had uttered a single word to the other since she had slapped my face for saying some rather distressing things to my uncle.

A thought caused some trepidation to rise within me, and I sat up instantly, clutching at the vials that hung from my neck. "Aunt Esme? Are you well? Is everything all right? How is Uncle Carlisle?" Admittedly, hearing her voice on the line worried me that my uncle may have been hurt in some way.

"Yes, we're all well; thank you for asking, Edward. I was actually calling to check on you. I do believe your uncle is keeping information from me regarding your well-being. I do get reports from him, but he isn't one much for divulging the _important_ details." She chuckled.

My mind eased, and I could remember my mother saying those same words, not only in regard to my uncle, but my father as well. I looked at her vial in my palm and gave her a small smile.

"I assure you, I am well."

"Are you eating? Sleeping? Visiting with anyone?" she inquired.

"Yes, Aunt Esme." I felt like a small child being fussed over and constantly questioned, having to reassure an overly concerned adult. It was maddening and endearing in the same, but only because her mothering reminded me so much of my mother's own actions.

"Well, that's good to hear." She drew in a deep breath, then remained quiet as if she were expecting me to speak. There was a long silence between us, before I decided there wasn't much sense in us listening to one another breathe.

"Aunt Esme, was there anything more?"

"Well… Carlisle has said that he spoke with you about coming to Arizona for a visit, and I know you're to begin your studies again in a couple of weeks, so I was wondering if you have had the time to consider our offer."

Uncle Carlisle's words circulated through my memory. _"You should be with family. You are welcome any time you feel ready. You have a full support system at our home."_

I appreciated his sentiment, but this was _my_ home. New York was what I knew. The sound of the subway, the honking of horns, the crowded streets, the sirens…all were familiar and dear to me. What had he expected me to do in the arid desert of Arizona?

No, I couldn't leave New York. I liked the hustle of the busy streets, and the noise had always comforted me. It was that same comfort I now considered necessary to get through my days and most nights.

"Yes, I have. I don't believe now is the best time—"

"Oh sweetheart, it's the perfect time! None of you kids have classes right now, and goodness knows you could probably use a change of scenery for a few days. You must come," she insisted.

I hadn't the heart to tell her that I had already requested to delay my return to NYU—bypassing the fall session. "Aunt Esme, I just don't believe—"

She interrupted me again. "You could stay here with your uncle and me, or you are welcome to stay with the kids at their home if you prefer," she offered.

I hadn't realized my cousins were living separate from their parents.

"Whichever is more pleasing to you, dear. You can stay in the peace and quiet or with those closer in age to yourself; though should you decide on the latter, I make no promises of privacy or peace. It is your decision, but we would so love to have you with us in either case. Please say you'll come, Edward," she pleaded.

"If I may, Aunt Esme, I would like to take some time to consider your offer." I needed to placate her for a time, because there was absolutely no manner in which I would willingly leave my home—our home—not even for a short while.

"Yes, of course. You may call your uncle or myself and let us know when you wish to come out. We will take care of all the arrangements. You needn't worry about a single detail." She had obviously assumed I meant to check my calendar to plan the trip rather than make the decision on whether or not I wished to travel west.

"I will contact you by week's end," I promised.

"I am so glad you will be coming, Edward."

"I did not say I would, just that I would consider it," I pointed out.

"Oh yes, of course, of course." She sounded much like my mother then, and I could imagine her waving her hand in the air dismissively. It made me smile to think that a little of my mother existed in my aunt's personality and spirit.

-~~{()}~~-

_August 8_

I had just set my phone down after speaking with Uncle Carlisle-agreeing to go to Arizona for a short visit—when my phone rang with another Arizona phone number flashing across my screen. I didn't recognize the number, so I allowed it to go to voicemail. I knew that if it were my aunt, she would have called from Uncle's phone as she had before.

Within seconds, the phone lit yet again, letting me know I had a message.

"_Edward, why didn't you pick up the phone, you silly? Oh well, Mom and Dad want me to pick you up at the airport – _beep_ – morrow, so give me a call and let – _beep_ – know what you're wearing. – _beep_ – wait to see you!"_

Aunt Esme hadn't wasted any time, and my cousin was as bubbly as ever.

-~~{()}~~-

_**A/N: Never say never, Edward. **snicker** I know you all will be chomping at the bit now. He's finally going to do it isn't he? He's going to Arizona…or is he? Muahahhahahhahaa**_

_**Additional Disclaimer: I don't work in law services nor do I have a degree in law. This story is FICTION, and I took certain liberties based on research and the wonderful world of "Law and Order."**_

_**Thank you to my lovely wifey and my beauties (aka my betas: Tiffanyanne3ff and Carabeth)**_


	11. Chapter 10: Strength

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

-~~{()}~~-

Chapter 10:

Strength

-~~{()}~~-

Edward

-~~{()}~~-

Bob Gerandy had called both my home and my cell number numerous times to check on me since my parents' deaths; I had always allowed them to traverse over to my voicemail, ignoring them until I'd decided to go to Arizona. I owed him a phone conversation at the very least for the concern he had shown in every recorded message.

The truer purpose for my call was to ask his assistance with the apartment, should something happen while I was away. He'd been gracious enough to be the emergency contact during previous absences, so it made the most sense to have him continue to do so.

"I am glad to hear that you are going to your uncle's, Edward. It's an excellent idea for a change of scenery, no matter how brief." He was merely attempting to reassure my decision to take a reprieve from my grief, but I didn't know that reassurances from anyone would have made me feel any differently.

The more I discussed the trip, the more the anxiety I felt grew—if it were physical matter, it could quite possibly have filled every residence at the Carlyle. "I don't know that it is as much a need as it is a desire to get away before the stress of the classes I am to begin in a matter of days." I forced a chuckle from my throat to portray a man desperately trying to heal his truly irreparable existence. Every ounce of conviction and courage that had been instilled in me by my parents had died in the barren wastelands of sorrow in the hours after their deaths.

"Ah, yes. To be young again and have the worry of nothing more than tedious coursework to please one's professors." An awkward pause stretched into minutes.

I wasn't sure what to say to the man. A part of me took offense at the suggestion that I would consider my university classes at the forefront of my mind after all that had happened. Before I could allow my emotion to shift into anger, he cleared his throat.

"A mini-vacation it is then. Your uncle is a good man; he and his wife seem to love you very much."

I had to again endure more of his inane encouragements. Our conversation was not going the direction I had wanted it to, and it became essential that I steer it back to the reason for contact. "Yes, well, the reason for my call, Doctor Gerandy—"

"Bob. Please Edward, call me Bob. We've known each other much too long and have been through much too much for you to insist on being so formal."

I relegated the use of his first name only to speed the conversation along. "Bob, with your permission, I would like to leave your name and number with the staff here at the Carlyle. Normally…" I swallowed hard because normally, I would have asked my parents. Only when I'd taken a trip with them had we asked Gerandy.

My vision blurred as I watched ghostly images of my mother and father caring for the apartment in my absence, played out before me. My mother—her outfit completed by an apron—fiddled in the kitchen as she undoubtedly prepared a gourmet dinner, while my father sat in the recliner, reading the evening post. It was a sight I'd seen often as a young child, silently watching them from the hallway when I was supposed to have been studying.

In an instant, the scene changed to one that would happen after they'd thought I had gone to bed. My father sat reclined on the couch with my mother tucked safely at his side as they watched television. He turned and leaned closer to her, placing a chaste kiss at the crown of her head. It was a memory of the simplest loving gesture I'd ever seen between them, which sent my heart hurtling toward my feet in agony.

I swallowed hard as the scene shifted again to one of my father standing behind my mother, his arms about her waist as he nuzzled into her neck playfully. My mother's giggle echoed in the hall.

"Edward?" Gerandy's voice caused the images to dissipate, leaving my heart yearning for the memories to continue to fill the space and my weakening soul.

I began to wonder if I had made the right decision. I knew I'd made the commitment to my uncle. He'd purchased the ticket, and preparations for my visit were already underway. I would be disgracing my mother's teachings if I were to act in any other way than what was expected of me. Such opprobrious conduct was unbecoming a Masen or even a Cullen gentleman. The knowledge of which proved that I could not commit such a sin as to cancel my journey.

"My apologies. I had lost my train of thought." I cleared my throat and took a deep breath to give the impression of a renewed focus. "Ah, yes. As I was saying, my parents had entrusted you during previous excursions, and I hoped that you would extend me the same courtesy. If anything should happen while I am away, I would very much appreciate it if you would allow the staff to contact you should I become unavailable. "

He quickly agreed, adding further reassurances that I was doing the right thing. After a few compulsory pleasantries, I made the excuse of a need to pack and of informing the office that Gerandy would be the emergency contact. I couldn't foresee anything requiring such dire attention, but it was a formality I'd rather handle before any such incident took place.

-~~{()}~~-

The moment I began to pack for the weeklong trip, I felt a deep sense of dread—as though I were abandoning my parents. I instinctually picked up the phone and began to search for my uncle's number to retract my previous agreement to visit him and his family in Arizona. It wasn't as though the journey was a necessity, and I would have been perfectly content to remain in New York. Making the futile attempt to escape my sorrows had been a ridiculous notion. One could not run from such intangible things, and it was childish of me to make such an error in judgment.

Just as the tone began to sound a rolling dial of numbers, I ended the call, realizing that I at least owed my aunt and uncle my presence in their home. I had treated them so poorly when they had dropped everything in their lives to come to New York to be by my side only weeks ago. My mother would have berated me for my behavior in front of a room filled with unfamiliar faces if she had been alive to do so. She would have insisted I make the trip to thank them for their kindness in person.

I clenched my jaw and swallowed the lump that felt as though it had attached itself to the wall of my esophagus. My throat constricted as a whisper of a memory preyed on my hearing, and I began to choke as yet more droplets attempted to escape what seemed a never-ending river of tears.

I could hear my mother singing me to sleep as she had done every evening of my childhood, until I'd decided that I was much too old for such a thing. I was only ten, but I can remember the hurt in her eyes. The first week it had taken me hours to fall asleep without the ritual of her voice lulling me into slumber. We had never spoken of it after the fact.

I looked to the chair in my parents' bedroom where my mother had scolded me at age four for informing Miss Cope of her larger condition. I had merely told the woman that she was bigger than anyone else in the room at the time. I had no inclination that such a statement was inappropriate in mixed company.

Fearing that I would soon forget the pitch of her voice, I longed to hear her admonishments pierce the deafening silence of the apartment. Her motherly warnings would have been welcomed distractions to my sorrow-filled days, because it would have meant the absence of a necessity to grieve. Without either of my parents around, I couldn't begin to see any sort of future that could possibly exist devoid of their lives. An end to my mourning would never come in this life.

-~~{()}~~-

As I stepped up to the TSA agent at the Delta terminal security checkpoint, and handed him my ticket and passport, I noted how badly my hands were shaking. My anxiety didn't go unnoticed, and he asked me to step to the secondary line to wait my turn for a full body scan.

I tried to settle into a calm, but my feelings of regret were redecorating the walls of my mind with the sadness of my mother's eyes and the lines of disappointment in my father's frown. A deeper regret in the form of my stoic grandfather sat in a corner, shaking his head for not having visited them before driving to the airport. Why hadn't that been first on my list of things to complete before leaving New York? Well, the fact that everything had been decided and booked within the last twelve hours had plenty to do with my lack of prioritizing a list.

Within moments another agent approached me and began asking questions regarding my travel itinerary. I understood their hesitation in allowing me to pass, due to my exhibition of anxiety, but wasn't pleased with the delay. Although if they had denied me passage, I couldn't say that I would have been unhappy at the circumstance. Approximately twenty minutes later, after I had shown them the contents of my pockets, described my travel plans, and the reasons behind them, they permitted me access to the hall leading to my gate.

As I passed beyond security, I suddenly remembered that I had packed the prescription of Valium the doctors had prescribed for me when I had been "inconsolable" in my laptop bag. I made a brief stop at The Big Apple Marketplace to grab a bottle of water so that I could take my pill before boarding. In hindsight, I should have taken it during the drive to La Guardia; I may not have been halted at the checkpoint for quite as long.

Shortly after arriving at gate nine, the flight was called for boarding. I had been dreading my journey since I was given the details by Aunt Esme—largely because I was flying coach. The tardiness of the purchase had left her few choices for available seating with first class and business class being taken up by those commuting on company business to various locales.

She hadn't wanted to waste any time in getting me to Arizona for fear that I would change my mind, so she'd simply booked the flight without further consideration. Her concerns were warranted, because as I walked down the gangway toward the vehicle that would force me to leave the very ground my parents lay beneath, I contemplated making an about face to return to the safety of the encompassing darkness of my home.

When I stepped onto the plane, I felt my anxiety rise and with it, the overwhelming desire to vomit. The Valium was taking entirely too long to make the needed effect on my system.

As I passed through the first class and business portion of the cabin, I noted how each seat held a well-dressed individual. Thankfully the flight wasn't filled to capacity for those in coach, and I was blessed with an empty seat next to mine, allowing me to take the window and gain a bit of breathing room. My anxiety peaked when I remembered that, in two hours, I would need to change planes in Memphis. I should have looked into a charter, but there again, the chances of me backing out were high.

We'd sat on the La Guardia tarmac so long that my flight landed twenty-three minutes late in Memphis, and I had to rush to my next gate. I had little hope of my bags making it onto the flight with me, and given airline history, I highly doubted they would.

-~~{()}~~-

As soon as they opened the plane doors, I felt a wash of heat flow through the cabin, carrying a wave of trepidation with it. What if my trip had been a horrible error in judgment? Had I been in the proper frame of mind to make a determination on whether or not I should have traveled? I supposed it was all a bit late to decide that then; I had in fact landed in Phoenix, and my cousin was undoubtedly waiting for my arrival at baggage claim.

I turned on my phone and immediately received a tone, alerting me to a message.

_**Will pick you up on the North Curb. Be on the lookout for a yellow Porsche 911 Turbo. ~Ali**_

I made my way to baggage claim and immediately scanned the boards for arrival information. I located my flight number at carousel three and got into position at the base of the conveyer so I could be one of the first to gather my bags and get out of the stifling heat in the building.

Once most of the passengers were gone and the same bags rotated their way back to me again, I knew that my luggage had indeed been lost in the shuffle.

I asked an attendant where the baggage service office was for Delta, and headed off in that direction. I placed a claim with the agent and was given a claim number to reference when contacting customer service.

-~~{()}~~-

If I had thought the air inside the building was stifling, the air outside was deadly. The heat, although drier than I was accustomed to, felt like it could burn your flesh in mere seconds. Once I took a seat in Alice's car, I was mentally praising the inventors of both air conditioning and the coolant it used to chill the air around us.

Cousin Alice had apparently forgiven me for my previous transgressions, as she continually rambled on about her boyfriend Jasper—whom I had met previously—and his sister Rosalie. She spoke even more of her roommate Bella, whom she insisted was very much a sister to her and my cousin Emmett.

"Bella works for Mom at the restaurant, well she has since she was sixteen, but Mom made her an assistant manager this summer. She deserves it because she does _so_ much. I can't remember if we ever introduced you to Bella or not." She paused briefly to glance in my direction. "Have you two met yet?"

"No, I don't believe—"

"Oh, that's okay." She waved me off. "You'll meet her tonight at dinner. Mom said that Bella insisted on cooking dinner for all of us even though she's working today. She's such a trooper! She does all the cooking in our house …and the cleaning come to think of it. Well not all the cleaning, the rest of us help out. Although, probably not as much as we should." She continued to speak more and more of her friend Bella. I found myself pitying the poor girl who not only roomed with my exuberant and talkative cousin, but also shared the house with my repulsively flatulent cousin, Emmett, this Jasper and his sister Rosalie—another reason I was happy to be staying with my aunt and uncle. It seemed they treated her more of an employee than a friend or sister, as my cousin had claimed to have felt about her.

-~~{()}~~-

Just before exiting the freeway, Alice reached down toward her feet and grabbed her phone from her purse.

I was amazed at how steadily she had kept the car in the lane, because she had actually taken her eyes off the road to look for it. I had my hands at the ready to take the wheel should she succeed in steering us into oncoming traffic.

I heard her speak to someone, advising him or her of our timely status. We were due to arrive at our destination in approximately twenty minutes. After she disconnected the call, she continued to speak of what her household did in the evening hours when all five occupants were at home.

I couldn't imagine having to share a house with so many people my own age. It had to be chaos every moment that they were all present. I was altogether grateful for my New York apartment with only the noise of the city below—if I so chose to open the window.

I don't believe my cousin drew breath more than twice during the car ride from Sky Harbor Airport to Uncle Carlisle's home. It had taken forty-five minutes to get to the area that Alice described as the San Tan Mountains. I suspected the drive should have taken longer, because I had glanced but once at the speedometer and found that her speed exceeded that of the posted limit.

Aunt Esme was seated on the porch awaiting our arrival, but stood as we came to rest in her driveway. She walked out and met us at the car, embracing me instantly. As anxious as I had been about this visit, I did take small comfort in the feel of her motherly arms wrapped around me.

Alice quickly explained that the airline had lost my luggage and then excused herself, saying that she needed to get back to the house to help Bella with the evening's preparations. We watched and waved as she drove away, and then turned toward the house.

"I am so glad you decided to come, Edward." Aunt Esme smiled and looped her arm through mine. "You may stay as long as you like, and if you decide that you would feel more at ease away from the old fogies and living it up with the kids, we can make arrangements for a room there instead."

Rooming with people of my age was not an option. I needed the peace that only an elder's home could give. "I'm sure this will be fine, Aunt Esme."

She patted my arm. "Well, the offer is there for the taking."

The home was a modest one. The furnishings were an eclectic mix of modern tastes, but they seemed to create a comfortable feel. After a tour of the layout of the house, she ushered me to the room she had designed for my stay. She had put much thought into the detailing of the space. A large print of New York City hung on the wall above a low-set chest of drawers. Pictures of our extended family were neatly arranged in cherry wood collages about the room. One in particular caught my eye. It was the same one I had sitting on my nightstand. My father embraced my mother from behind as the night sky was lit from the lights of New York City. The Empire State building stood out amongst the buildings because of its special lighting. I remembered the evening well.

Aunt Esme interrupted my reminiscing, misreading my loss to my thoughts as weariness. "Why don't you rest? It is only twelve-thirty, so we'll leave here in a few hours. I know you were up early, and you have plenty of time to nap if you'd like. If you need a change of clothing, I'm sure you're uncle will have something."

"Thank you. I should be all right in these clothes for the evening, but I will rest," I accepted, smiling to appease my worried aunt.

She smiled and nodded, backing out of the room and closing the door with her.

I sat at the edge of the bed, took a deep breath and reflected on the happenings of the day. I couldn't remember getting into the elevator to leave the apartment, nor could I remember the drive to La Guardia. I toed off my shoes and removed my shirt, leaving me in my undershirt and trousers. I allowed myself to fall back onto the bed, trying to recall how my day had begun.

The weight of what I _had_ done pressed heavily on my chest. I had left New York, abandoning my parents. I hadn't given them the singular courtesy of a farewell. I knew I would return, but that wasn't exactly the point. I had never gone anywhere without talking with them first. I reached into my trouser pocket, pulling the vials from their hiding place. My only comfort was that I had brought a part of them with me.

-~~{()}~~-

A gentle rapping on the door, followed by a soft voice, awakened me. "Edward?"

"Come in." My voice was thick as though I had slept for hours.

"I'm sorry to wake you, sweetheart, but it's very nearly time to go." Her pitied look was enough to get me motivated. If there was anything I despised more during this time, it was pity.

"I'll just refresh my appearance and be out in a moment." A yawn escaped me, and I was surprised at my own rudeness, however unintentional.

"Before you begin—" She disappeared from view, but returned swiftly with shopping bags lining her arms. "I know the airline lost your luggage, and I know you said you would be fine in those clothes for the evening, but we don't know when your bags will arrive. I took the liberty of running out while you were resting and bought you a few things—" She saw me begin to protest and put her hands up to halt my objection just after setting the bags on the bed. "Just to get you through the evening, maybe a day or two. After that it is up to you."

"Thank you, Aunt Esme. I will pay for them, just tell me—"

"No you don't, Edward. Don't deny your aunt the happiness of shopping for her only nephew."

"Aunt Esme—" I began again.

"Edward," she said sternly, and I knew immediately that I was not going to win the battle.

Her stance reminded me of my mother, bringing with it a stab of pain to my chest. "Yes, Aunt Esme. Thank you very much. I'll be down momentarily."

She smiled widely. "Thank you for making an old stubborn woman happy."

"I wouldn't say old, stubborn however—" The words had escaped me without thought. It had been something I had always said in response to my mother.

"Watch it, young man!" She pointed her delicate finger at me and attempted to hide a grin by puckering her mouth.

For the first time in over a month, I'd allowed myself to laugh. It felt good and in the same instant, very wrong. My eyes began to well, and if Aunt Esme noticed at all, she didn't acknowledge my condition.

"Hurry along and freshen up. We'll see you downstairs in ten minutes." She turned and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

She was more like my mother than I remembered her being. The mannerisms, the scolding…it was no wonder they had become the best of friends.

It was then that I realized the grief my aunt must have felt. The tears she had cried in New York were very real and weren't just for the loss my uncle had suffered, but for her own as well. I had lain drowning in my pool of darkness and sorrow, shutting out the entire world and not thinking of the grief of others. I had focused on my own affliction and ignored the endless phone calls of others. They had called not only to comfort me but also to express their own grief—and I had denied them every opportunity. I had acted the part of a selfish tyrant and had hidden myself away in a steel fortress of solitude, denying entry or expression.

I needed to at least allow my extended family an outlet…even if I chose to withhold my own feelings. I needed to exude strength and accept their gestures of condolence or consolation. I needed to be the man my parents had expected that I'd be. I needed to be Edward Anthony Masen the Third.

_**A/N: I do hope you hadn't given up on me. I will see this through to the end, I promise you.**_

_**I trust that you all had a good holiday season, if not…do what I did. Knock back a few white Russians (The drink, not men! Pervs!) and let the music play. LOL**_

_**Thank you to my master pimp and motivator I_luv_Spunk for sticking by me, and kicking my ass. Also to my wonderful wifey, mpg for her excellent pre-reading skills and telling me when something just doesn't fit. Finally, to my betas, Carabeth and Tiffanyanne3FF—life first, everything else later. Love you ladies!**_

_**In case you missed it, I have an O/S entered in the Fic-A-Pic contest called "Elusive Entanglement"-blame the wifey, mpg, for it coming before the update. She says she'll gladly take the punishment. ;) It's in my profile. Voting begins February 13.**_


	12. Chapter 11: Memories

**Disclaimer:****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as it would thrill me to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me, CorrinaTFF. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**

**-~~{()}~~-**

**Chapter 11:**

**Memories**

**-~~{()}~~-**

**Bella**

**-~~{()}~~-**

I toweled my face and looked at my image in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy from the tears I'd allowed myself to shed for my father. I supposed no one ever really gets over the loss of a parent—no matter what age. August eighth, two thousand and seven, was the day I had lost my daddy, and still, three years later, I hadn't gotten over the crippling pain I'd felt when I'd received the news.

Unlike Esme's nephew, I still had _a_ parent—no matter how absent she may have been, Renee was still alive. Truthfully, Esme had always been more of a mother to me than my own, and Carlisle had always treated me as if I was one of his biological children. I still had two very strong parental influences in my life, but what did Edward have? My God, he'd lost both of his parents within hours of each other. That kind of devastation is enough to drive any person insane with grief.

I rummaged through the contents of the medicine cabinet in an effort to find the Alcon drops that Rosalie usually kept downstairs. I was relieved when I found them, but perplexed as to the reason why they'd been tucked away behind a box of condoms. Why we needed condoms in the downstairs bathroom, I hadn't a clue, nor did I want to know.

When I went back out to rejoin the game, Carlisle, Esme, and Alice were all absent from the table. I looked at the remaining three and raised my arms in question. "Where'd they go?"

"Edward called," Emmett replied solemnly, as Rosalie gently stroked his arm as one would to soothe a child.

"What's eating you? Where's my happy Emmy boy?" I asked in toddler-speak and patted his shoulder as I walked by.

"Let's just say I'm not one of my cousin's biggest fans and leave it at that," he huffed.

I sat down in the empty chair next to him and tilted my head to the side, furrowing my brow at Rose. She immediately understood, narrowed her eyes, and shook her head to ward me off.

"Are you going to explain, or do Rose and I have to badger you?" I teased, ignoring her warning.

He exhaled a heavy sigh but remained silent, a look of absolute irritation marring his usually radiant face.

I looked to Jasper for help, but he too seemed perplexed-throwing his hands up and shrugging his shoulders, letting me know he didn't have a clue either.

"Baby, why don't you let them in on your little secret? Maybe they can help you deal with this animosity you have toward your cousin," Rose offered, running her hand through his loose curls.

Emmett's jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together. Whatever it was that was bothering him had me worried, because I'd never seen him like that. "He's a class-A jerk. You should have heard the way he talked to Mom and Dad when we were out there." He pushed his chair back roughly from the table and stood. He began pacing the floor on his side of the table, the frown lines of his face growing deeper. He suddenly turned and placed both palms flat on the table. "And that first day? That first day in New York, he made Ali cry." He jammed his index finger into the table for emphasis as he spoke. "_Nobody_ makes Ali cry."

"Emmett, sweetie, you have to remember that he's grieving. He lost both of his parents within twenty-four hours. He's hurting pretty bad," I reminded.

"I know that Bells, but that was just the beginning. The way he spoke to Mom and Dad…" He pushed up from the table and began his pacing again. "And they just let him get away with it! I get that the guy's grieving…I don't know what I would have done if it had been Mom and Dad, but Hell, we were there to help!"

"He understood that in the end, dear."

We all turned our heads in the direction of her lyrical voice. Esme stood in the doorway with a look of absolute love and adoration on her face.

"He is hurting still and when he comes out here, I want you to do your best to remember that he is a member of this family. He is not only yours and Alice's cousin or my nephew; he is all your father has left of his sister. " Her voice was low and motherly, yet commanding.

"I know that Ma, but the guy has some—"

"Emmett Cullen, you will not speak another ill word against Edward. I've heard quite enough. You will be on your best behavior when he comes out next week. Do you understand me?"

It was as though she was scolding a five-year-old version of Emmett. If he hadn't been as big as he was, I doubted she would have hesitated in taking him over her knee. Although, I had seen him brought to his knees at least once before—for as small as she was, that Esme was a master in the art of mothering large bear-like children.

**-~~{()}~~-**

I had agreed to cover Esme's opening shift at the restaurant so that she could prepare a room for Edward at her house. Everyone had been given a job to do with one exception…me. Esme insisted that covering her shift was more than enough and that she couldn't possibly ask any more of me.

"Esme, when have you known me to back down from doing things? Better yet, if you don't give me something to do, I'll just make a huge dinner instead of bringing it from the restaurant." I heard her heavy sigh come over the phone.

"Bella, honey, honestly! You've done quite enough. You're working extra shifts so that I can spend time with Edward."

"Esme, I'm going to make dinner."

"Bring it from the restaurant, darling. I've already advised Chef of the contents of the meal."

I was being obstinate, and I knew it, but I didn't want to be left out of the task of welcoming Edward to Arizona. The Cullens had always insisted that I was a part of the family…so I was insisting she let me be. "Esme, I need to be a good daughter and hostess. Please just give me _something_ to do."

"You certainly have the stubbornness of a Cullen."

"Combine the Cullen mindset with that of a Swan and I am a force to be reckoned with." I smiled, remembering the arguments I'd had with my father. Most often they had ended in a stalemate with neither of us winning. Although, I would venture to say my father won in the end.

I remembered I had once begged him to allow me to go down to South Mountain Park during a really bad thunderstorm to see my friend Jacob. Dad would not budge, and I wasn't so willing to give up. That was one of those instances where I believed he still won, because even though I wouldn't talk to him, we both had sat in the living room, watching television and spending quality time together—just like he'd wanted.

Esme's giggle kept me grounded in the present. "You win sweetie, but I am calling Zafrina and asking that she allow you to leave a bit earlier so that you have time to prepare."

"That's really not necessary—"

"Bella," she said, using my name as a warning for me to cut the stubbornness. "I conceded a much larger task than I'd wanted in the first place; don't make me regret it."

"Yes, Esme." I knew she wouldn't be angry with me if I were to continue, but I didn't want to add to the stress she was undoubtedly feeling from Edward's visit. If things had happened the way Emmett had described, I couldn't imagine the situation being any less tense than when they'd left New York.

"Thank you. Now, I will see you tonight when we arrive with Edward."

"See you then, Esme."

"You're lucky I adore you so, Bella."

Shortly after that we ended the call. I knew she was out running errands in preparation, and she was undoubtedly headed over to our house to be sure that everyone else was doing what they were supposed to be doing. Things that I usually took care of.

**-~~{()}~~-**

I was in the kitchen basting Emmett's favorite roast when the doorbell chimed at 4:30 sharp. I ignored it, figuring that someone else would be willing to get it, and went about checking on the roasted rosemary potatoes and carrots. I was slow roasting everything and timing the ingredients just so to be sure it'd all be ready at six.

When the door chimed a second time, I was admittedly a little irritated that no one had come down. Although, Carlisle and Esme did own the house, so technically, they could have let themselves in.

Just as I was pulling my apron off, Alice came running down the stairs, clapping her hands excitedly.

"I got it!" she called out.

I continued removing my apron, thinking that I might be mistaken for the help if I didn't remove it. I didn't want Edward to be put in a position where he may have to worry about offending someone. The poor guy had enough on his mind without worrying about etiquette.

I began removing glassware from the cabinets to ready myself for hostess duty. I didn't want anyone to go thirsty, and I would certainly offer to get everyone something to drink. After I had removed eight glasses and set them in line along the counter, I walked out into the living room just as Esme was asking about the rest of us—Alice was still the only other person downstairs.

I stopped short when I noticed the back of a very well dressed and tall young man. Even though I had only seen him once before, I knew he had to be Edward.

His hair had some red highlights and may have needed to be cut, or at least trimmed. He turned his head to speak directly to Carlisle, giving me a view of his profile. He had that same strong jawline, but it now had a dusting of a five o'clock shadow.

"Ah! And this is our beautiful Bella." Esme introduced me as though she was a proud mother, making me blush.

Edward turned completely around to face me, and my need to nurture took over the moment I took in the rest of his appearance. His shaded jaw may have been handsome normally, but his cheeks were sunken in and he had heavy dark circles under his eyes, giving him a gaunt look. He looked as though he hadn't eaten in months.

I knew from my own experience, after my father's death, that he probably hadn't eaten very well since he'd lost his parents. I felt so sorry for him, but I knew that to give him pity would not be what he wanted. That had always been such an annoyance to me. Still was.

"I am pleased to meet you, Bella. I've heard much of you from my cousin, Alice, and my aunt." He was so proper and polite. Almost overly so. He extended his hand toward me, and I was almost afraid to take it. His skin was so pale, and seemed so thin that I was afraid it would tear like a tissue if I grasped it too tightly.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Edward. I've heard so many stories, and I'm sure you have another side to them." I gave him a genuine smile, lightly gripping his hand and hoped he knew that I was trying to brighten the mood. I felt a little shock when our hands touched, surprising me and making me jump a bit.

Edward didn't seem to notice. "That's very diplomatic of you." He gave a pensive grin and looked down at our hands.

I realized I still had a hold of him and quickly released his hand. I decided to play off my social inadequacy and return to my hostess duties. I offered to get everyone drinks, to which they all declined, leaving me in an awkward stance. "Excuse me." The air in the house seemed suddenly stifling, so I hurried out to the back porch to get some much-needed air.

He probably thought I was rude or that I didn't like him, but the truth was that I had never really been much of a social butterfly. Running into Emmett and meeting the other three, well, that had been the extent of the friendships I had made with only one other exception. Angela Weber. She was as quiet and socially inadequate as I was, but she had decided to go to Washington State and I'd decided to stay in Arizona, effectively ending that friendship.

"Did I say something to offend you?" Edward spoke suddenly, startling me. "I must apologize. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, no, you didn't. I just didn't hear you come out. I'll have to tell Emmett to stop greasing the hinges."

He chuckled, and I felt more at ease with the flow of our conversation.

"Forgive me, I should have paid more attention. I'm Edward, but I seem to have forgotten your name."

He'd said just moments ago that he'd heard a lot about me, but now he couldn't recall my name. I guessed Alice and Esme may have mentioned my name in passing and I had become a "she". He'd met Rosalie and Jasper numerous times, so it stood to reason that he couldn't remember my name. Right?

"It's Isabella. Isabella Swan, but I go by Bella."

"Bella. It is a pleasure." He extended his hand again.

I slowly placed my hand in his, hoping not to shock him again, only to get a little spark that lit up the darkened space. "Oh! I'm sorry. I don't know if it's me dragging my feet or what."

"It's quite alright. Maybe I have an electric personality." He gave a light chuckle.

I was happy that he felt comfortable enough to joke with me a little. I decided to keep the mood as light as possible. "Did Alice keep her motor-mouth running for you the entire trip from the airport to Esme and Carlisle's?"

He laughed again. "Yes, yes she did. She does have a gift for speech."

"A gift? You'll change your mind about that one. You should try rooming with her. She sometimes even speaks in her sleep."

That garnered another laugh from him. I was amazed at how easy things felt between us. It was as if we had known each other for years.

"Thank you, Isabella."

"It's Bella, please. What are you thanking me for?" I hadn't done anything to warrant thanks, so I couldn't imagine what on earth he could possibly have been doing it for.

"Bella." He nodded. "You are the first person since…"

I heard him swallow hard and knew immediately that he was referring to his parents' accident.

"This is the first time in a while that I haven't felt an intense desire to seek solace in a darkened room."

"I know _exactly_ what you mean," I assured him.

"Yes. Alice tells me that you lost your father three years ago. How have you dealt with your loss?"

I let out a long sigh in an effort to keep from crying. I felt the tears well up and turned to face out toward the desert sky. "I deal with it the only way I can…one day at a time."

"I want to believe that it is that easily dealt with."

"Oh, I didn't say it was easy. " I turned to face him so that he understood just how truly difficult this was for me to talk about. "There are days where I believe I hear my father's voice calling for me, and I actually turn around to look for him. Call it reflex…wishful thinking…whatever it is, it's cruel. It can strike at any moment and drag you into a despair that could take you a significant amount of time to recover. My father is still with me…in here." I placed my hand over my heart. "He never should have been taken from me like that." My voice ended in a whisper.

Edward exhaled harshly. "It would seem that you and I are very similar creatures, Bella. I hope that I may learn a bit from you before I return home. That is where it is the most difficult."

"Being surrounded by countless memories can be very difficult to deal with. You have to figure out what your best route to continue to live will be."

He nodded his head unthinkingly as he stared wide-eyed at the ground.

"In the meantime, I'm an open book. You can ask me anything, and I will answer you honestly and to the best of my ability. You can also feel free to tell me anything, and I promise you, it will remain between us." I reached out and laid my hand across his forearm, another spark of electricity briefly played in the air. "There are some answers, that will come in time and there are others that may never be answered. Most of them…they have to come from you, Edward."

"You seem very wise for your age. Much credit is owed to your parents."

I raised my brow. "Is that a nice way of saying I'm old?" I wasn't ready to talk about my mother. She wasn't completely lost to me, even though it felt like she was.

"My apologies. I did not mean—"

I raised my hand to stop him. "It was a joke, Edward. You know, you are awfully polished for your age," I teased.

"I owe that entirely to my upbringing." He smiled, staring into the distance. "My mother raised me to be a proper gentleman, and I wouldn't change a day of it."

"Nor should you. You should always remember those times; reflect on them if they help you. They can get you through some pretty tough moments. What is unfortunate is the past is what it is. We have to go through what we do, to get where we are meant to be. It's an odd and uneven path at times, but we have to keep moving along or we cease to be the people we should be and we get lost."

"Wise words from a well-educated and wise young lady."

"It's too late. You've already soiled your reputation with me by implying that I was old," I joked and stuck my nose in the air, but I couldn't keep from smiling.

"I will have to figure a way to repair the damage I've done. It would do me no good to have you think so poorly of me," he said in mock repentance.

We both laughed lightly. I was proud that I had been able to make him feel comfortable enough to talk to me. We were speaking of a devastating subject, but we were able to confide in each other so it was good therapy in the least.

"How…forgive me if I'm being rude, and please understand that you don't have to answer…how did you lose your father?" He looked so apologetic.

I knew where he was coming from. The desperation to make sense of the why and how. How could a singular event cause so much heartache and devastation? Why would something like that happen to people we love?

I sat on the chair closest to me, too afraid that my knees would buckle once I started talking about it. I closed my eyes long enough to take a deep breath and exhale. I could already feel the numbness spreading over my shoulders. Next would be the instant pain that would radiate through them before racing down my spine to punch me in the kidneys.

"My father was shot on duty by a man that was robbing a convenience store. The bullet entered under his arm, missing his vest." I started to rock slightly in my seat and grasped onto my elbows. "Amazingly enough, Dad pulled through surgery and was making good progress. He was out of ICU and recovering in his own room." I chuckled remembering the nurses' sarcasm in calling him 'Cheerful Charlie' because of his grumpy demeanor. "He was a force to be reckoned with, barking orders from his hospital bed and giving everyone a heck of a show." I clenched my teeth together and swallowed as the tears began to form in the corners of my eyes, forcing me to blink rapidly.

"Bella, you don't have to—" Edward had taken the seat next to mine.

"I do." I looked over at Edward and pursed my lips as the tears began to fall. "A clot, something so small…" I whispered, wiping at my cheeks. "I could give you the medical term, but the end result is that my father died from a heart attack. Complications from the wound he'd sustained." I choked on my sob, which brought Edward to kneel in front of me.

He laid his hands on the arms of my chair and peered into my eyes. "I am truly sorry that happened to you."

"Thank you." I sniffed and shook my head. "I got through it and, though I'm still dealing with it, I wouldn't have made it this far without your family. I cannot tell you how much they mean to me." I wiped the tears that had made it to my chin. I gently placed my dry hand on one of Edward's. "I am sorry for your loss. It may not seem like you will make it through, some days you may feel yourself drowning, but you will get through it."

I watched as he closed his eyes, hung his head and sighed, dropping his shoulders.

"You can talk to me anytime you want. I will help in any way I can, but Edward…you have a wonderful family that loves you and wants so desperately to help you."

His jaw clenched, and I was afraid that I was losing him in my attempt to offer my experience, but he had to know.

"Let them help you, Edward. They've done wonders for me and I know…_I know_ they can for you as well."

I had tried to relay the feelings I had regarding loss. Losing someone you love is not something to get over; it's just not that simple. It's something to work through every day of your life. No matter what you try to forget or push away, something will always sneak up on you and remind you of that person. Sometimes it brings you joy and other times it can bring sorrow, but either way it reminds you that a piece of that person will always be with you.

Emmett's voice boomed, startling us both. "Bella! The kitchen's on fire!"

**-~~{()}~~-**

**A/N: They've met! Who's breathing a sigh of relief? **

**Thank you for hanging in there through all the angst. Loss is a tough road to tread. Most, if not all, of us has experienced it. We all have our own ways of dealing with the devastation that eats away at us. I hope you have dealt well or are surviving the waves that crash into you.**

**As always thank you to my group of gals: mpg, tiffanyanne3ff, carabeth, and I_luv_Spunk.**

**If you like angst, I have a rec for you and t****he title is perfect.** Kharizzmatik and Shear Envy both recommended "Disjointed" by Simone and Marie. I am hooked! If you haven't read it yet, go. **http: / www . fanfiction . net /s/ 6612804 They've told me they plan on posting part three beginning March 1. **


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